#i've listened to it literally ten times back to back right now at this moment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sarifinasnightmare · 3 months ago

Text

Birds of a Feather

Author: Sarifinasnightmare

Rating: E for everybody!

Warning: None applied.

Summary: Young Sam had been blessed with bird speech. One stormy day it comes in handy when he receives a guest.

Notes: This is for @samsseptember. Sorry for the lateness, but I've been so busy and now I'm sick, but I wanted to support Sam Wilson.

_______________________----

One day Darlene left the window open to baby Sam’s nursery and found a barn owl perched on his crib. From her vantage point she could see her baby cooing up at the creature, smiling at it so she knew he wasn’t in any danger. The owl’s white heart-shaped face seemed to study Sam with great interest as if pondering his existence. Coming to a decision, the owl tossed its head before flapping its wings, blowing a current of air towards Sam. He crowed in surprise, kicking his legs and extending his arms as if receiving something. Darlene took a step forward and that was warning enough for the owl, who screeched at her before taking off through the window. Picking her baby up, she quickly examined him and found nothing amiss, then went to shut the window. She later talked about the incident to some friends at the hair salon. One of the oldest of the customers piped up.

“Them vodun think an owl brings the blessing of wealth, but the natives say they bring foresight.”

“Foresight?”

“Um-hm, you can sense things before they come, but maybe not. Owls are funny creatures. You got him baptized right?”

No one really paid attention to her words. Barn owls made their homes wherever they could cram themselves in, so it might’ve been a coincidence and soon the incident was forgotten.

_________________________---

Sam liked birds, or to be more specific, birds liked Sam.

Darlene and Paul had albums filled with pictures of him with a bird perched on his head at every age. He also had a habit of finding every injured bird on the property. The first time Darlene told him to throw it away little Sam burst into tears and begged her to help him save it. Unable to handle his big, sad brown eyes she eventually relented and soon took it to the vet to learn how to nurse the pathetic thing back to health.

Over time, Sam learned how to take care of them, and he’d have a shoe box or two containing a sparrow or a purple martin or woodpecker. Darlene and Paul could hear him talk to the little creatures, have full on conversations with them, but they just shrugged their shoulders and assumed he had an active imagination.

One day when he was thirteen during a particular bad winter storm, he had foolishly opened the window because he heard a sound and a peregrine falcon nearly bowled him over, flew itself straight into his room and perched on the old wooden chair by his desk.

Ten-year-old Sarah ran to check on him and yelped when she saw the bedraggled raptor flapping its wings wildly-there was something stuck on it.

“No, no! Stop screaming, the both of you!” He ordered them. Sarah immediately stopped and surprisingly so did the bird. Approaching the creature, he tenderly extended his hands out and coaxed his wings down. “You’re inside now. The storm can’t get you.” He reassured it, stroking the feathers, noticing the sticky fly paper that was enmeshed in them. “You’re confused about where you are, aren’t you? Storm blew you off course.”

The falcon blinked and lowered its head, exhausted.

“How’d you do that?” Sarah asked in awe. “You always know how to calm them down.”

Sam sighed like an old man. From the moment he could talk he’d explained to anyone who would listen that he knew what to do with the birds because they talked back. Birds came to him because they knew from other birds that the little human in the blue house by the lake could understand them. However, his family did not believe he was being literal and just thought he had a knack for birds. It was frustrating but it was probably for the best. The Wilsons have been known to run a joke into the ground, like the time his Uncle Winton who drank himself blind on his anniversary and crapped his pants. He still received the occasional brown pants for Christmas or birthday. Therefore, Sam stopped telling people that he could hear the birds and just let it be known as his special little talent.

“I just do. He’s in pain. Think you could run down and get the cardboard box in the kitchen?”

His sister eagerly ran down to get it and together they made a nest for the falcon while the storm raged outside. Sticky paper was a new problem, and the falcon complained that it would’ve dodged it had it not been for the winds that tossed it in his direction. The substance was thick and viscous, yanking his wings painfully. First thing he did was cut what he could off, making sure to be careful around the feathers.

“We need vegetable oil to get the residue off.” He mused.

Paul, hearing the commotion, went upstairs and found his children fussing over a raptor in the bathtub, carefully pouring drops of oil over the creature and gently peeling bits of tape off it.

“What in the world? What the hell is that?” He asked.

The raptor answered for himself, screeching in indignation before Sam interrupted. “It’s a falcon with sticky tape on it. I’m getting it off.”

Paul had seen his son rescue dozens of birds, and it always amazed him how good he was with them. This bird, however, had sharp claws and seemed the biting type. “Is he safe, son?”

Sam shrugged. “He’s grouchy but he’s letting us clean him up. He’ll leave after he’s dried and the storm passes. Do you think you could give me a little plate of raw beef?”

“Let’s see if your mother feels generous.” Paul replied, deciding his son had everything under control.

Darlene had been busy cooking and talking to friends, but didn’t bat an eye at the shenanigans going on. She just cut a few slices of frozen venison from her husband’s last hunting trip and passed it on to feed their temporary houseguest.

Sam allowed it to defrost as they washed and blotted the falcon, then used a pair of scissors to feed him the sliced meat. Sarah watched with great fascination.

“Ew, why does it have to be raw?” She asked.

“Because birds eat their food raw, it’s normal for them.” Sam explained. “Their bodies can’t handle all the spices and seasoning we put in our food. It would make them sick.”

“A life without spices sounds awful.” She mused aloud.

“Birds don’t have many taste buds so they wouldn’t taste much unless it was very strong.” He explained.

“They can’t taste stuff!” She gasped. “That sucks!”

The falcon gave her an offended look and screeched at her.

Sarah was startled. “Sorry!”

After feeding the raptor, their mother called them down for an early dinner, wanting to eat while the lights were still on, and the food was hot. Good thing too, because no sooner were the dishes in the sink, the lights flickered and shuddered before blinking out. Sam had to wash by flashlight, but did his best before tramping up to his room. His sister had had her fill of the falcon and decided to sequester herself in her room, not much liking the thunder and lightning.

Making sure she was snug tight, he prepared himself for bed still using his trusty flashlight. Settling himself on his bed he peered at the falcon resting peacefully in his box.

The bird blinked at him. Your sister is loud.

Sam shrugged. “Sorry, she’s ten. She only has one volume.”

Fledglings are loud too until they grow up and learn to be quiet and listen.

“Not everyone listens.” Sam interjected. “Adults don’t listen to us kids or to anyone sometimes.”

Humans are smart, but arrogant and fragile, very easy to break. Being a flyer is better. We live, we eat, we hunt, we breed. If we must fight, we fight, but if we die, we die. Understandable. That is life.

“But you didn’t want to die.”

Only because I knew you were near. Had I been alone, I would’ve accepted my fate.

“Well I’m glad you’re not dead. Birds like you make the world pretty.”

The falcon cocked its head. Pretty?

“Nice to look at? When you look at something or someone and it makes you happy then it’s pretty.”

No such word for pretty amongst flyers.

Sam frowned. “How do you pick a mate then?”

If she is healthy and biddable, she could be a mate.

“What about a tree? Don’t you want a pretty tree to build a nest?”

A tree must be strong, it doesn't need to be pretty.

“Oh well, when I see you guys fly up in the sky and do all those aerial maneuvers, I think that’s really pretty.”

I enjoy moving through the air. Do you find that pretty?

The boy nodded.

The bird cocked his head the other side and fluffed his chest feathers. I am pretty. He mused, tasting the word.

Sam bunched his pillow underneath him and stared out into the dying storm outside. “I wish I could fly, but fly like you do, without fear.”

I’ve seen humans in those solid things fly much higher than me.

“I guess that’s flying, but to really fly, with the air in your face, swooping and diving. That would be so cool.”

Flapping his wings a little, the falcon replied. To do that you need to follow your intuition. All us flyers learn to listen to the wind, heed the change and act accordingly. It takes great skill to do what we do.

Sam reached out and caressed a wing. “Maybe I’ll join the Air Force and learn to fly.”

Then let me give you a gift should you reach the skies. Come close to me, friend.

The boy didn’t hesitate and soon he lowered his head until their faces touched. A warmth pressed against his forehead that made him feel good, then the bird withdrew.

Should you get your wings, friend, then fly like my kin.

“Thank you.” He replied kindly.

The storm softened enough to lull them both to sleep and by the next day they awoke to some mild flooding, but the electricity came back.

Sam and Sarah carefully carried the falcon to their private dock, wearing their rain boots to wade through the muddy water. Paul kept a careful eye on his children as Sam carefully lifted the bird from the box.

“Have a nice life and thanks for the visit.” He murmured to his feathered friend.

The falcon allowed Sarah one gentle stroke over its back before flapping his wings and swiftly catching air, taking off into the bright morning sky.

They stared at it until the raptor was just a little speck in the distance.

“Hey sis, I’m thinking of joining the Air Force. What you think?” He mused aloud.

Sarah paused. “You want to fly, dontcha?”

He smiled. “Yeah, why not?”

“I want to fly too!” She threw out her arms and started to run, jumping onto the watery path and back to their daddy’s side.

He patiently followed behind her.

___________________----

Several decades later.

Sam was taking a well-deserved break from being Captain America. Currently, he had his magnificent wings stretched out in the garage giving them some much needed detailing.

Sarah strolled in and admired the grace, beauty and power of them. “Hey Uncle Sam, got a minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?” He asked, glancing up briefly from his cleaning.

“I know you’re on vacation, but the neighbors called asking if you still took care of sick birds. Got one that’s all tied in fishing lines.”

He straightened up. “Sure of course. Tell them to bring it in.”

She grinned. “Always ready to save the day.”

“Absolutely.” It was the least he could do. After all, they gave him great blessings. Only right to return the favor.

#samtember2024 #sam wilson #sam wilson event #fan event #marvel #captain america #tfatws #marvel mcu #marvel comics #the falcon and the winter soldier #anthony mackie #ca:bnw #ca:cw #ca:ws #falcon and the winter soldier

11 notes · View notes

pidgydraws · 1 month ago

Text

i started re-watching season one of Arcane~ so i can watch everything fresh before Saturday... and i know it's because of just... like... ME~ and my emotional jellyfish brain... and my messed up relationship with sentiment and stuff... but i think i'm pretty much just gonna cry through the whole thing. and i've SEEN season one, probably, twelve times??? but now??? after the first two acts of season two??? every little thing just amplifies the tragedy ten fold. every set back, every smile, every beautiful moment~ every dream and hope and ~ I'm literally sitting here... listening to Jayce's impassioned speech at his trial~ and !!!!!!!! this stupid show... gawd... it's so well crafted - for me, it sits right at the intersection of all these things that mean so much to me - so when i'm listening to him speak, feeling so hopeful~ and knowing where this is all going to go... and how beautiful and horrible it's all going to be... i can't help it. i can't help but cry and cry and cry and cry and cry... what a thing...

imagine creating something so powerful. what an accomplishment as a creator. oh~ to make someone feel even just 1% of that, just one time. truly. it's all i could ever hope to do one day.

#pidgy talk #arcane #*unrelenting emotion*

8 notes · View notes

rebornologist · 11 months ago

Note

Gosh, do you know how much your works are valued??? I hope you do since for some, especially me, these works have been the only thing fueling my ten year long love for khr~ Anyways is it OK to request for college and romantic headcanons of Giotto?

♡♡ hiii dear! Thank you so much for your kind words. If you don't mind, I've just compiled all of my Giotto HC reqs instead of making multiple posts, since there is a (variable) amount of overlap between them.

♡ Giotto in College & in Love ✧

༚✧⁺˳₊˚‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ ⁺˳₊ ♡ ₊˳⁺ ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿˚₊˳⁺✧༚

Giotto was not particularly outspoken in class settings, but he was a fine student and fairly active and keen to engage with the local community. He went in undeclared and eventually settled into political science because it was simply what interested him, in addition to a lot of philosophy and some studio art electives. He’s a good writer, and can whip up a crazy effective grant proposal. He enjoys creating things with his hands, such as pottery, forging simple metal jewelry (namely rings), and painting. As he got caught up with work more, he got less and less time for those creative hobbies.

He participated in a lot of direct action groups on campus and ran for some position in the legislative branch of the associated student government. He had a group of close friends that included G and Cozart, and the group would be found floating around, sitting on grass in the quad or in the student community building’s meeting rooms, discussing various things that may or may not be related to student gov.

Giotto is a pretty hopeless romantic, in the way that.. he has a tendency to see the world through rose-tinted glasses, firmly believing in the good of humanity. While he romanticizes the grind, his partner would likely be the one that reminds him to take a step back and rest. He’s surrounded by people with big hopes and dreams, as he should, but it can be a little too inspiring. He’ll lose a lot of sleep because he spends time thinking about the good and the bad and the ugly and the beautiful.

His partner is always there to listen to him ramble about his hopes and dreams, but they’re also there to ground him, remind him to pay attention to them, to get ready for bed, snuggle up, meditate, literally anything to take his mind off of what his next move is. Sometimes, the next move should just be.. nothing, for now.

They remind him that they want to go into the ceramics studio next week, and he pauses. His breath is held still in his chest as the constantly turning gears slow almost to a stop, and he takes a moment to process before he exhales audibly, with a soft smile “...it’s been a while, huh?”

Initially, he was very formal in the way that he pursued his s/o-to-be. They started as colleagues or friends, and something about them just.. caught his eye. For being such a well-spoken man, he cannot put to words what exactly made him feel so strongly about them, but he feels it very viscerally. He opens doors for them, bringing them tea and coffee, gifting them a little painting or a handmade mug, before finally mustering the courage to ask them out to dinner with a whole ass bouquet of flowers.

I don’t see him as anything but a friends-to-lovers type of man. Even on a first date, the dialogue and banter flow as usual, and there is a natural chemistry on top of their preexisting friendship. He tries his best to pace himself in terms of what is considered a “natural” progression of the relationship, but it’s almost as if he knows that he’s all-in with his partner from the get-go. His loyalty and devotion is unmatched.

One time, as a joke, his partner referred to him as their husband. He malfunctioned right then and there. If he had a tail, it would have been wagging. He laughs it off in front of his friends, as if that was a regular occurrence. Afterwards, on the way home, he hits them with the “Do you really think of me like that?” silence… 30 seconds later, he speaks up again as he is driving, “Hypothetically, when do you think is a good time to get married?” It’s adorable. It does become a regular occurrence after that.

I have written a bit on this before, so ngl.. idk what other bases.. to cover

He’s confident, but he doesn’t have a huge ego. The times where he feels most egotistical, actually, is when his partner is so painfully attracted to him. He’ll catch them gawking at his hands as he adjusts his watch and jewelry, and a playful smile dances across his features, golden eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Like what you see, dear?” He fans his fingers out, displaying the rings on his finger, before flipping his palm upward and gesturing salaciously for his love to come closer.

Is really sweet and enjoys teasing and worshiping every inch of his lover, just so that he can take note of every reaction. He’ll notice every little gasp, every flinch, twitch, whimper, etc. He loves a vocal partner.

Sex is something that he enjoys taking his time with, so if there’s something that you want to leverage to pull him away from his work, that might be it. He tries really hard to stick to his scheduled activities, but he doesn’t mind getting distracted by his s/o for longer than planned. At some point, he starts to account for that when he plans for the day or the week.

It’s really funny when he hits them up with the, “hey babe… my sweet.. angel, darling… I know that we have our date tomorrow afternoon, but.. I have a meeting that evening..” his s/o knows exactly what’s coming, “are you available to.. start earlier so that we can have more time together?” UM YES.

Is not particularly kinky himself, but super open minded to trying out anything that his partner may be into. He loves to please, so he’ll definitely at least be open to hearing about any fantasies they would want to fulfill. Some things are off the table, he’s not a huge fan of play that revolves around non-consent because he’s kind of.. a softie through and through, but he dabbles in praise, gentle degradation, being a pleasure dom, etc.

He’s a little more interested in group play than you’d expect, because he’s fairly romantically monogamous, but if a partner asked to bring other people into a sexual scenario, he��d be like, “oh.. oh, yeah.. are you thinking of [redacted]?” IDUNNO Y/N ARE YOU?!?!

✧ a/n: rb with who u think redacted is

#khr #hitman reborn #khr headcanons #katekyo hitman reborn #khr imagines #khr x reader #giotto khr #giotto x reader #freeing myself from writing about giotto purgatory

28 notes · View notes

lucystark12 · 4 months ago

Text

i very very rarely listen to running up that hill but i am right now and it's just like holy shit YOU HAD TO BE THERE (weird reflection post that i just randomly started writing and couldn't stop for some reason about my depression lol that was supposed to be cute and lovey about my love for stranger things but ended up being really somber)

i didn't immediately watch season 4 when it came out on may 27th, because friday may 27th was the day that i came back from a week long class trip to the deep depths of northern washington (hell on earth, no mans land, if you will) and since my parents were out of town for my mom's 50th birthday, i was going straight to my best friend's house to stay over for the weekend. that i did. my best friend everly, whom i was staying with, always falls asleep really early, so at some point in the early hours of may 28th, probably around 1 am, i pulled out my phone and starting watching stranger things. i had spent the entire spring rewatching after all.

i got to where chrissy got possessed and immediately had to turn it off because i was in seventh grade and the bone cracking thing scared me to death (this was before i watched GOT for the first time, my tolerance for gore was not as high as it is now)

such began the first of many times where i'd neglect watching my favorite show for no reason. i did it with house of the dragon season 2 as well. so, a few days later i left everly's house and my grandma came to stay at my house with me while my parents were finishing out the rest of their trip.

at this point, the whole internet was already talking about running up that hill. it was that sunday when i decided i had to watch the show. who the fuck was i kidding? i loved stranger things. problem was, my grandma is and will always be the worst tv hog in the history of the world, so with a shitty disaster movie playing in the background, i put in one airpod and finally started watching stranger things season four.

this was a particularly rainy spring for portland, something that literally scarred me at the time because i was nearing the end of the worst depressive episode of my entire life, and the sun not being able to peek out of the trees like it had in late may last summer and every summer before that was something so insignificant yet something that really was sending me off the edge. i didn't realize how far off the edge i already was at the time. my other best friend had just started taking medication for her depression, which manifested very differently in ways that mine didn't. she was mad. she was resentful. between the few moments that she was the same laughing, loving girl i'd always known, she hated me and our other friends and hated herself more. my cousin likewise had depression so bad he couldn't get out of bed. he hadn't been to school in three months. i wasn't like that. i thought i was happy comparatively. i was diagnosed with OCD the year before and thought that was an explanation. it took getting a new therapist and unpacking my behavior back then to understand what was really happening. i never cried. when i did, it was violent. it came in bursts that lasted all afternoon. i started and i didn't stop until i fell asleep. i threw things, i refused to talk to anybody. i was failing math, which i've never done before. i couldn't understand a thing. i didn't even care to try. i hated myself. the only thing i ate was a bowl of craisins at school every day because i couldn't physically force myself to eat. i thought i was just tired even though i got ten hours of sleep every day. i was always exhausted. my therapist couldn't diagnose me because after years of being taught i had to be perfect, i refused to tell even her that there was something wrong. i thought i was stupid, i thought i was ugly, i thought i was worthless. i thought i was just experiencing what it's like to be twelve years old.

so, another rainy and overly misty sunday afternoon passed me by as i reached the ending of the fourth episode, and finally, the fated song that i'd been hearing all over tiktok and didn't quite understand yet started playing out of max's walkman. i watched the entire scene with my grandma barking questions at me about why i was tearing up.

running up that hill was my most played song of 2022, just ahead of africa by toto.

now i'm not going to say that stranger things brought me out of said depressive episode, because it didn't. the four months ahead of me were four of the hardest of my life still to this day, just as the six before them had already been. but i've grown a lot since then, and two years later when i was in spain alone, sick and crying, experiencing a little week long bout of similar feelings to the ones i felt when i first watched season four, the show weirdly managed to find me again.

the week before i had left to study abroad in spain i had learned that i got a B+ in math instead of an A- in math because my teacher wouldn't round up my 89.9%. it might seem trivial especially because a B+ is incredible process from the algebra i had nearly failed for the second time in the row the year before, but sometimes things like that can be enough to cause somebody to fall back into old habits and feelings. estranged from everybody and everything i'd turned into coping mechanisms for hard times like these when i was literally half the world away, i didn't know what to do. so, when i was in my dorm with food poisoning from a salad i'd eaten the night before, i decided to press on the byler analysis video that had popped up in my youtube feed. such began what i've been calling my "stranger things renaissance"- a second stranger things phase that's been going on since late june.

not to sound overly bylerish, but i've been seeing a lot of parallels between this summer and the summer season four came out. for reasons out of my control, i've been forced to spend a lot of time alone. this summer when i've started feeling lonely, i've taught myself that rather than overthink, to channel it into something else like writing, or doing something that will calm me down. now when i'm home alone and haven't seen a friend in a few days, i'm not sad anymore. i think "well damn" and then i move on with my night. i'm no longer depressed. with the help of my new therapist, i've gotten really close to growing out of my OCD. i no longer have to pray every night. i don't wake up in a cold sweat if i go to bed at 10:31 instead of a "perfect number" like 10:30 or 10:35. i rarely lock my bedroom door anymore. and no, it's not perfect yet. i'm not "cured"- i still have my crying episodes. i still have moments, even though they're few and far between now, where i feel the same way i did back when i was twelve.

but i'm moving on. things have shifted in my life. i've grown up and this show has with me. i started watching it on halloween of 2019 when i was in fifth grade and my friends and i did the "goodbye mike" trend in my basement. i watched the first three episodes that night and finished it for the first time during covid. it was with me through that hard time back in the day, and for some strange (haha) reason, it's with me now, and will probably continue to be with me until the show ends, because like as typically happens when i fall back into obsession with something i liked when i was a little younger, (the mcu, harry potter which remanifested in the marauders) it becomes more than a phase, but a part of me in some weird way.

stranger things may have its flaws and it might not end the way i wanted it to, but for the rest of my life it will be special to me regardless. i'm finally for the first time in my life older than the characters. i was seven when season one came out, eight when season two, ten during season three, 12-13 and season four, and will be 16 in season five.

so thanks, stranger things, for helping me, and thanks even more for showing her that there's nothing wrong with the many different aspects of her that she'd been led to believe were wrong. as corny as it sounds, she couldn't have done it without you 🫶

(say hi to baby lucy, because it's always more fun with pictures, and because depression can happen to anybody no matter what they might look or act like on the surface)

rip 2022 lucy, you would have loved the byler sunset pictures that you somehow would have found a way to relate to reddie and your best friend that you were highkey in love with. you also would have loved mike wheeler if i could explain who he really is to you because said in an EARLY analytical essay that "All I really gained from season four though was that I absolutely hate older Mike and that I wish he would’ve died instead of Max." in the same essay you say you wish you could throw mike of a cliff. oh the irony. (please laugh)

ps: if you ever find yourself feeling anything like what i described in this post, know that it gets better even if it seems like that's what everybody says and it seems like it never will. there were times back then when i didn't even know if i'd make it to the age i am right now, and now i'm at one of the happiest points ive ever been in my life. know that even if we've never talked before, i love you and i believe in you. my blog is always a safe place if anybody out there ever needs anybody to talk to.

#stranger things #depression #depression awareness #thank u duffer brothers u've reached ur target audience #the target audience is me #mike wheeler i am you if you were a girl

8 notes · View notes

meadow-dusk · 27 days ago

Note

favorite song at the moment?

hi. you know what, it's been the same answer for three+ years and I hope it always is.

youtube

more under cut/ got personal

I've written posts of paragraphs about this song so many times, and nothing I can come up with holds a candle to what Neil conveys in three simple verses (not to discredit the power of the harmonica interludes...). But for old times' sake, I'm going to update it because I just had to write a letter to my future self as an assignment, and this song once again pulled me out of a headlong spiral.

The first time I heard this song, I could tell it was something very special. Despite the crazy crossroads my own life was at, I challenged myself to try to summarize its message, just to document it in time. My takeaway went something like, "if I can believe that the natural world is worth protecting, then, as a part of the natural world, why aren't I worth it?"

Since then, the deeper truth has revealed itself to me over and over, not only supporting my initial interpretation but grounding it more deeply in faith and trust. I needed to hear that message at that time. And every time I listen to it now, every time I scramble to play it with shaking hands, I drop everything I'm doing for ten minutes and just let it sink into the tissues of my being because what the hell else am I supposed to do? It's gotten me this far. The method can't be argued with. It is literally my self-preservation anthem.

Never in my life has a song been so important to me. It transcends the role music can play in one's life. Less of a decoration in the fabric of time and more of a mantra: "Don't judge yourself too harsh my love." I sometimes scoff when he says that line. I sometimes push back against the lesson and have to listen again, to let it sink in. If one listen doesn't smother the demons, a second ought to knock them out cold (or just help me get to sleep). Whether I'm down on myself or the state of the world, "Natural Beauty" covers all the bases and wraps it up cleanly in the most relatable way, the closing song on my favorite album by my favorite artist. I protect its right to being my favorite song because of this history, and because it feels made for me, simple proof that sometimes we are given what we need.

#personal #thanks for asking. I was gonna skip this ask but I'm glad I didn't cause I haven't done a post like this in a minute

3 notes · View notes

i-eat-mass-blog · 1 month ago

Text

1 album per day for a month: week 1 overview

Hi, yes, hello. It's your messy ass emo boy Waltjoy again with me doing dumbshit. But this dumbshit is not me saying shit about MCR for the 450th, it's me remembering that this is actually a music blog for once.

So basically, I'm very behind on albums that have been released this year. So I challenged myself to listen to albums that has been released in the year of our lord 2024 everyday for a month, and I've just finished my first week.

I planned this thing back in the beginning of this month, what happened? Devastating events. That's what happened. But who cares, lets get into the week overview/wrap up thing.

So our current week seemed to be themed around mostly alt rock with like, one metal album and an indie rock album. But literally most of it is alternative in some kind of way.

Yes, I know Preacher's Daughter did in fact come out in 2022, but I've been itching to listen to it in full and this was gonna be the only time I was able too. So like, lets get into it.

The Cure - Songs of a Lost World

Date Released: November 1

Genre(s): Gothic Rock, Alternative Rock

Date Listened: Nov 10-ish to Nov 11-ish

Holy FUCK!!! The Cure is BACK!!!!! Time to prove how goffik I am or whatever Ebony D'Arkness Dementia Raven Way said.

Okay all jokes aside, its INSANE to me how Robert Smith is still dripping with creativity and talent. Especially after not releasing any new material in over TEN YEARS. Most bands who've been around as long as The Cure typically.....don't make any new stuff and if they do its pretty....... not good. But HOT DAMN, is this thing crazy.

Now, imagine if a portal opened up in front of you and out of that portal comes Robert Smith. Now imagine if Robert Smith proceeded to throw you into the portal and into another world and you're stuck in that world for like, 20 or more years. And all of a sudden the portal reappears and you're sent back right to the moment when Bobbie boy over here threw you into the portal.

That's basically the album. It's ethereal and very other wordly. The boys were COOKING up in this bitch. 10/10

Ethel Cain - Preacher's Daughter

Date Released: May 12, 2022

Genre(s): Dream Pop, Slowcore, Singer-Songwriter

Date Listened: Nov 12

Shout out to that one goth friend of mine who fucking loves Ethel Cain and desperately wanted me to listen to this in full.

Anyways, I'm big fan of Ethel Cain despite the fact it took me until this month to listen to this album in full. The all EPs she released? Yep! The album? Nah, I needed the perfect moment for this big beautiful bitch. And DAMN if she ain't beautiful.

Ms. Ahnedonia is able to mix Dream Pop, Slowcore, and Singer-Songwriter with elements of Post-Rock, Americana, and Ethereal Wave for this unnerving and distrubing album that follows this southern gothic story of a girl whom ultimately ends up dead by the hands of her cannibalistic boyfriend, while also exploring themes of generational trauma, grief, death, love(?), various forms of abuse, and human trafficking. It's like one of those films that people say are really disturbing but as an album.

But the aesthetic, the sound design, basically everything off of this album makes you feel like you're sick on a hot summer's day. But not any kind of sickness: its like a fever that makes you lighthead and delirious and mostly in-and-out concious most of the day, all while its that gross, hot and sticky "so humid that you can cut through the air with a butterknife" kind of hot day.

Aka, this shit is amazing. I can got on about this album 10/10.

julie - my anti-aircraft friend

Date Released: September 13

Genre(s): Shoegaze, Noise Pop, Slacker Rock

Date Listened: Nov 13

Okay so, a little bit Alt Rock history for those who don't know: While Grunge and Shoegaze kinda flattered out of popularity during the 2000s, their were small circles that kinda took influences from both. Shoegaze bands with grunge influences, Grunge bands with shoegaze influences, ya'know. And later in the late 2010s and 2020s, Alternative Rock had a big resurrgence with a lot of Gen Z, including Shoegaze and Grunge. This also caused a revival in both of these specific genres. There have been multiples names to these; nu-gaze for newer shoegaze acts, grungegaze for shoegaze influenced grunge/grunge influenced shoegaze, and even zoomergaze for the more RECENT recent stuff.

And modern shoegaze band julie falls under the 'zoomergaze' word being thrown around. julie as band started getting attention from just their debut single, flutter (i completely recommend btw), alone back in 2020. Which was immediately followed with their EP Variable Bloom, which is only available as limited cassettes they handed out with three already released singles and an untitled track. Which was immediately followed with pushing daisies in 2021.

And this leads us to julie's debut album, which a lot of people have been seeing as a let down. And for me? Well, I'm julie's biggest fucking fanboy so yeah i loved it. I'm a shoegaze slut, i'll enjoy that shit as long as its not objectively garbage. Now, do I think this album is perfect? No! I actually agree with a lot of the criticisms of the album.

Literally my main two (2) complaints about this album is:

it doesn't have the rebellious spirit or weight of shoegaze and even thier previous works

parts of the album feel very same-y and meandering

Like, I legitimately think maybe they should've removed some songs and released this as another EP. But despite that, I think its still a pretty good debut. They're showing room for improvement???? on their FIRST STUDIO ALBUM????? HOW DARE THEY, THOSE SELL OUTS!!!

Okay but fr, despite its problems I love noisey shoegaze its an weak 8/10 for me

Poppy - Negative Spaces

Date Released: Nov 15

Genre(s): Metalcore, Alternative Metal

Date Listened: Nov 15

Poppy has had a very interesting past couple of years post-I Disagree. The EAT EP, which is her best, and Flux back to back in 2021, and then........whatever Zig was in 2023 and now collaborating with Bad Omens and Knocked Loose....crazy ass year for a poppyseed.

After the release of Zig in 2023, which a lot people thought was............. an album. She then returned a year later with Negative Spaces, completely ditching the industrial pop dance stuff she was doing in Zig and going back to the Metalcore/Alternative Metal. And DAMN THIS GIRL IS ANGRYYYYYYYYYY.

The first half of the album is back to back loud in your face, and then the other half starts to dable into other stuff like alternative rock and there's even coldwave song. This album is honestly something you have to experience on your own because even the metalcore tracks vary from Knocked Loose inspired to BMTH inspired stuff.

Basically, 10/10

Linkin Park - From Zero

Date Released: Nov 15

Genre(s): Rap Rock, Alternative Rock

Date Listened: Nov 20

So Linkin Park came back and it was definitely an album! But fr though, Emily Armstrong's vocals do fit but this feels so.....washed? Like there's only three tracks on here I like and two of those are the only ones that really feel like Linkin Park. Besides that, it's just boring and dull honesty. Which is WILD considering we have a couple tracks with Emily screaming her heart out on here.

Listen to Heavy Is The Crown, that's kinda the only one worthing listening to. 4/10

Rachel Chinouriri - What A Devastating Turn of Events

Date Released: May 3

Genre(s): Pop Rock, Indie Rock

Date Listened: Nov 20

Rachel Chinouriri I love you so much omfg. First off, her voice is so pretty???? It's just so soft and gentle??? And this album is so...comforting??? I feels very nostalgic of the 2000s, especially the music from that time. Some of these songs remind me of so many 2000s indie pop and indie rock its insane, and some of the stuff on here reminds me of Paramore's folk tracks like Misguided Ghosts on here too????

This album also seems to deal with a lot of themes about becoming an adult and dealing with tragedies, and BOY as an almost 19 year old still fucked over by the pandemic skip and dealing with life fucking me over DOES THIS ALBUM HIT ME IN THE FEELS SOMETIMES. AND DAMN DOES THIS GIRL KNOW HOW TO MAKE A POP HOOK.

Thank you for the new comfort album Rachel, i love it. 9/10

Fontaines D.C. - Romance

Date Released: August 23

Genre(s): Indie Rock, Post-Punk Revival, Alternative Rock

Date Listened: Nov 20

This album makes me wanna kiss boys

Okay but Fontaines D.C. is a very interesting band to me personally because a band mixing post-punk, indie rock, and gothic rock into a pot??? Hell yeah that shit sound CRAZY. AND MOST OF THEIR STUFF GOES WILD.

And this does too. It'd just a really nice sounding indie rock album all about being in love and shit. It has this vibe I can't really explain that's like, the completely opposite of melancholy. It's like the honeymoon phase of a relationship, just happy good things ya know.

gay ass album in way because of that, 9/10. love it.

okay music gays that's all for this god forsaken first week. will the next week have a theme? who knows! it could start off with tyler's newest album and end with....shi idk me reviewing CR2 after surprise drops it who knows, wild shit always happens this month so stay tuned ig.

5 notes · View notes

sapphire-weapon · 2 years ago

Note

Under no circumstance, think of Ashley's reaction if she ever saw the terrible affects of Leon's heavy alcoholism, because I just did and it broke me.

>implying that I haven't already thought about this at great length in tandem with my just-for-fun headcanon that Leon and Ashley still have an intuitive bond because of them both having been connected to the same hivemind for a while

>implying that I haven't already taken that and imagined a scenario where Leon has had his Final Straw of a Bad Day and now it's like 2 in the morning and he's almost all the way deep in a bottle of Jack Daniels and he's literally staring at himself in the mirror with a gun under his chin, making sure that he's 100% sure he's ready to pull the trigger

and then his phone rings

and he just lets it go to voicemail

but then it rings again, and this time it actually pulls him out of the moment and he puts the gun down and checks to see what's so goddamn fucking important at this time of night

and he's absolutely SHOCKED to see the name "Ashley Graham" on the screen because he hasn't spoken to her in like close to ten years.

So he sits down on the couch and actually calls her back, and they have this really bizarre conversation where she's like "I don't even have anything to say, I just suddenly got this really bad feeling like something was really, really wrong and I had to call you... but now that I've said that out loud, it sounds absolutely insane, and I'm sorry for bothering you in the middle of the night like this."

But he's completely hammered and was already deep into his feels as it was, so he's just listening to this and can't make sense of what his emotions are doing, but the glands in his throat are starting to swell with the threat of oncoming tears, and he doesn't even know what to say to her.

And that's when she realizes that something really is actually wrong, so she lets him know "hey, I actually happen to be in DC right now for a work thing, if you want me to come over and we can talk about it...?" and he just kind of numbly agrees to it because he's not sure what else to do.

So she shows up less than 30 mins later and is surprised to walk into a mostly dark house. The only light available is the muted TV in the living room, and it illuminates a figure on the couch that she doesn't recognize.

Like, seriously, if she didn't already know that she was in Leon's house, she would have absolutely no idea who she was looking at. Not only has she never seen his natural hair color, but it's also a bit longer and more unruly than the last time she saw him, like he hasn't been keeping up with it, and he also hasn't shaved in probably a week. But worse than that is the fact that he's lost somewhere between 50-100lbs of muscle -- to the point where he almost looks ill to her eyes

and the more she studies his face, the more she starts to think that there's something to that and that he really is ill, because he just looks... old. Like something has aged him way beyond his actual years.

And all of this is made even more alarming by the fact that he seems to have absolutely no idea that she's standing there in the living room with him -- or even that she's in the house at all. He's leaned back against the cushions of the couch with an arm draped over his eyes

and she can tell he's not asleep, but he's also definitely not lucid.

So she surveys more of the room and sees the near-empty bottle of JD on the coffee table and the recently used glass beside it, and she starts to get a really bad sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

And that's when she notices that there is actually a light that's turned on down the hallway, spilling out from the half-open bathroom door. So she heads on over and slowly pushes the door all the way open, thinking that maybe he'd just forgotten to turn the light off because he's drunk and the bathroom doesn't look out of sorts otherwise

and then she notices his handgun on the counter, sitting abandoned beside the sink.

And then that sinking feeling in her stomach becomes a full-blown panic, and her heart starts to race as she finally puts the pieces together of what she actually interrupted when she'd called him earlier -- because she knows that Leon never just leaves his pistol out like that; if he's home, it's either locked up, or it's somewhere easily accessible but safely out of the way

so for it to just be

out

and sitting there like that

means that he'd intended to use it

and, prior to her arrival, there was only one living target in this house.

So she just switches the light off and hurries out of the bathroom and back down the hall to the living room, trying her best to not just start freaking the fuck out because holy shit what the fuck has been going on in the time between the last time she talked to him and right now???

As soon as she reaches him, she gently shakes him to awareness, and as he comes to, they both realize that there's nothing that can really be said in this moment. Like, she'd come here under the pretense of giving him a sympathetic ear to listen, but even though he's completely hammered, he knows right away that she'd found his little secret and knows exactly what almost just happened here tonight, and he's far too drunk to try to make excuses or explain or apologize in any way.

So she just helps him get to the bedroom and into bed and promises that she'll still be here when he wakes up. And once he's settled, she leaves the room and closes the door behind her

but she only makes maybe a step or two down the stairs before she just

has to sit down as it all finally sinks in for real

and she drapes her arms across her knees, lowers her head onto her forearms, and cries.

>IMPLYING I DIDN'T HAVE THIS SCENARIO READY LONG BEFORE U SENT IN THIS ASK

#resident evil #leon kennedy #ashley graham #do i even cw this for suicide #like #it's leon #there's gonna be suicide involved #that's just how it goes #YOU'RE ALL FUCKING WELCOME #BLAME ANON FOR THIS NOT ME

30 notes · View notes

sternbilder · 1 year ago

Text

Ranking my favorite 2023 K-pop comebacks

I feel like 2023 was a year where I followed kpop comebacks especially diligently bc of my newfound interest in dance, and since it's 2024 this means an entire year has passed now of This

here's a list of my 10 personal favorite title tracks this year, happy new year all!

The Top Ten

1. Monsta X - "Beautiful Liar"

listen. when I said

in january of last year I meant it with my whole ass and I stand by it an entire earth year later. this song fucks So hard

firstable Yes I'm sad this is their last cb with most of the group in a while but also jesus what a banger to go out on

I love the guitars, the looks everyone is serving, the funky little twist in the song structure after the second verse, plus thinking always about lovemelovemelovemetellmetellmetellme + the chains + kihyun with a literal goddamn whip + the gunshot sound effects punctuating joohoney's verse. chefs kiss

2. Taemin - "Guilty"

god taemin is back and you can just feel the catholicity through the screen. the haunting vocals. the delicious string textures throughout (the way the arpeggios shift to pizzicato for the second verse!). the 6/4 time (the only choreo I learned this year that was not to an 8 count). the fucking through the shirt grab. the bridge which they extended in the MV specifically to squeeze in Even More Yearning™.

this is a perfect cb and I will say the rest of the album is also flawless and my favorite out of this list. honestly this probably would have been first if not for the fact that I personally just liked beautiful liar so goddamn much. thank you taemin. no notes.

3. SHINee - "HARD"

aka the song I previously described as "2 baddies, but Good" (no really, they have same key signature & near identical song structure. listen to them side by side with HARD on .95 speed if you don't believe me)

anyway, like 2 baddies this is SM-flavored af but I love the old school hip-hop vibes in HARD soooo much. I've had some people tell me they found it weird and off-putting but to me it's effortlessly cool but also earnest and just. fun? (not only the music but also the visuals? hello? the fashions in this MV) def gotta be one of my most played this year

4. Lee Gi Kwang - "Predator"

ok now for a dark horse pick. I feel like in the borderline 5th gen landscape nowadays older groups are often forgotten (even though hello! 2nd gen bgs are back from the military now and are having a Moment) so people perhaps understandably overlooked this one but god this song is a bop.

is it just criminal by taemin part 2 but less sexy and with a lower budget? yes. but the song is an absolute bop and the choreo slaps in its own right so imo it's a very worthy homage especially given it captures its exact gender of "pathetic sadboy making horny mistakes and needing to dance abt it" so so perfectly,

5. Exo - "Cream Soda"

tbh not what I was expecting from an exo comeback and I was surprised that I ended up liking this so much given I didn't really care for the prerelease tracks, but the more I listened the more this grew on me?

ofc it's an exo track so the vocals are 100 emoji but the chorus and melodies are simply addictive and the choreo for this one is also just a ton of fun (the sexy little head swipe,)

also I love the outfits in this MV (everyone keeps saying this is the Weed aesthetic but honestly? with korea's whole Thing? this is exo's macklemore-style thrift shopping and/or raiding grandma's attic for hidden midcentury treasures phase. to me.) but thank u @ the universe specifically for giving us back silver haired baekhyun. bless.

6. VIXX - "Amnesia"

another underrated release tbh! this initially gave me guilty vibes w/ the abundant use of pizzes since they were released around the same time but I also just independently love this song

I feel like it's a very mature song that takes itself seriously but not in an overly self-absorbed or cheesy way (another comparison I might make is to leo's losing game from last year), the chorus is poignant and hits hard because it's so earnest—maybe especially so since they were down to 3 with this cb—but man that melody is just so gorgeous, like it haunts me

7. Dreamcatcher - "Bon Voyage"

ok if I'm gonna be real it wasn't a great year for my faves—while I liked OOTD and reason they weren't top 10 worthy for me, mx had 1 excellent release before having most of its members yoinked by the military, and I didn't love either of oneus's cbs this year

that being said! I did still like bon voyage! while I preferred the first 2 in the trilogy it still felt like a good and fitting finale, bittersweet and full of equal parts regret and hope

in many ways it feels like a harkening back to classic dreamcatcher with the Big Anime Opening Vibes™ but more somber and grown up, an unexpected summer anthem from these queens,

8. TXT - "Sugar Rush Ride"

it's been a busy year for txt and while I'm not super familiar with them and their releases are sometimes a bit hit or miss for me, when they do hit they HIT

I actually considered chasing that feeling for this list too but despite adoring the take on me-ness of it I ended up nixing it after adjusting for recency bias

sugar rush ride though, I feel is a bop that stood the test of time with its catchiness and surprisingly dark undertones, and is also one of my favorite choreos I learned this year by far like. come on. it's the epitome of Boy Group Hot.

9. Taeyang - "Vibe"

this song lived rent-free in my head for MONTHS, god it's so catchy

I actually missed when my local studio taught this song but I liked the choreo so much I learned it on my own which, predictably since it literally features 2 main dancers, was not easy but extremely worth it bc just like the song itself it's just really fun

other than that what can I say. the MV is nothing special but otherwise it's just a really solid song with Big feel good energy.

10. Kiss of Life - "Shhh"

ok,,,,,,,I don't really follow rookie groups that closely bc generally I don't feel like I'm the target audience but. out of this year's new groups I did especially like kiss of life's debut!

the MV doesn't do much for me tbh but musically it sounds uncharacteristically mature to me, in a good way—it has a subtle confidence about it that I like plus excellent vocals, and is (possibly hot take?) what I was hoping to get from newjeans this year as a continuation of their debut last year tbh

Honorable Mentions

Jungkook - "Standing Next to You"

this one just felt like cheating bc it's technically an English single and there's probably some recency bias here but I can't not mention it bc I simply love this track. I'm not even a BTS stan but it's just a jam with great vocals and instrumentals (the big band notes and MJ influence! please!) and the choreo is also SO ridiculously fun, both the chorus and the dance break

BTOB - "Wind and Wish"

this is just a wholesome song that makes you feel good, like is it a lil bit cheesy? yeah, but it's also Good Vibes Comma the Song, wearing its entire heart on its sleeve in the most endearing way. it's nostalgic and mellow and full of love for its friends and a zest for life

also special shoutout to the bridge, which in such an otherwise lowkey song did not have to go that hard and yet it Did?? that harmony gives me chills, 100% certified vocal kings would cry again

Shownu X Hyungwon - "Love Me a Little"

this is a pathetic meow meow song in the best possible way and was sadly beat out by the other slightly better pathetic meow meow songs on this list (guilty, predator, amnesia) bc it was just a really good year for them but I still think it deserves a mention bc first of all yea boi @ my mans shownu being free from the military but also the instrumental/dance break at the end is dark as hell and also SO fucking tasty

Infinite - "New Emotions"

another 2nd gen group that quietly had a renaissance this year! this song is simply a bop and while the song itself is not as memorable as some in the top 10 the choreo is actually really fun

also myungsoo looks really ridiculously fine as center in the first chorus and that's the last thing I have to say about this song,

Key - "Killer"

honestly I really liked both of key's cbs this year but I feel like killer was slept on somewhat, it's got a hint of sadboi but it's tempered by the upbeat 80s pop style, plus the grungy mullet and beret outfit from the MV was a fucking Look and a Half

And my favorites per month

January: Monsta X - "Beautiful Liar"

February: Purple Kiss - "Sweet Juice"

March: Onew - "O (Circle)"

April: Lee Gi Kwang - "Predator"

May: Dreamcatcher - "Bon Voyage"

June: SHINee - "HARD"

July: Exo - "Cream Soda"

August: MAMAMOO+ - "dangdang"

September: Key - "Good & Great"

October: Taemin - "Guilty"

November: VIXX - "Amnesia"

December: TVXQ - "Down"

#cam thoughts

2 notes · View notes

letscrywolff · 29 days ago

Text

Memories

We go inside, and no sooner the door closes, I throw the locks fast and surprise her with a pin up against the wall. I've wanted nothing more than this moment for so long. A craving finally about to be satisfied.

She feigns a small fight, pretending she doesn't want this - but she caves to the moment immediately, because even though she'll never admit it - this is exactly what she wants too. We've always wanted the same things. This is what she hoped for and fantasized about. She wants me to use her - and if anything, she wishes I was rougher and used her even more - something she'd never admit, but would be wise to come experience for herself in the present. I will absolutely fuck you up, E, and you'll thank me for it. I told myself if I ever encounter you ever again I'm doing everything I ever fantasized of doing with you, no holding back for fear of losing you like in the past. I will punish that little 'roccan pussy of yours in every position I force you into, and you WILL crave more. I will manhandle you like a toy and thrill you with my strength as I force you to take my cock in whatever position I need to scratch my itch: on your back, bent over, while I hold you up and bounce you on it, with your head smashed into the bed, with your legs over my shoulders, with my arm around your neck, choking you out while I fuck you from behind relentlessly. You'll gasp for air while I fill you with cum and watch it drip from you. I will fucking ruin you for me. I will absolutely hatefuck you mercilessly and leave you dripping, numb, and stupefied. I'll torture you with pleasure and leave you feeling used - like you served your only purpose. It really was all you were ever good for in the end.

Anyway.

We make out. I push her hips into the wall while I shoot her a smirk and a pair of bedroom eyes that are met the same. My hands grab at every bit of her they can reach. Her tits, her ass. Her hair, her neck.

We give meaning to hot and heavy with every aching breath and when I hear her gasp a moan and exhale in exhilaration, I lock lips with her so I can taste it - I want to literally take her breath away. Every bit of her will be savored. Every touch, every breath, every thrust.

I grab at her thighs, feeling them through her jeans, and dance my fingers across her pussy. I rub at her through the jeans with one hand as I pinch at her nipple with the other - through her shirt and her bra. She remarks how impressed she is that I can perfectly find her nipples through all the layers, tantalizing her, and dialing up her eagerness with a pinch and a twist. My other hand can't decide where it wants to be - I want all of her - her legs, her ass, her pussy. God how I love her fucking pussy. I settle on it, it's the goal after all. I can't think of anything I've ever wanted more in my life than to get in this woman's pants and fill her full of me.

She thinks all I care about is sex? I'd hate to let a perfectly good accusation go to waste.

I rub at her through her jeans - imagining how wet she must be. As eager as I am to find out, I want her to suffer through the build up a little longer. I'm waiting to turn want into need. That breaking point when she can't help it anymore and she goes on the offensive because she fucking needs me and what I offer, and she needs it right fucking now.

I listen to her breathing, feel her heart racing. She knows my pulse is pounding. She can feel it throbbing for her through my jeans and when she does she lets out a little gasp knowing she's the reason.

I put my finger in her mouth quick - she reflexively sucks on it…

I know she was already wet. Now she’s surely soaking.

It's time to find out.

I pull at her jeans and snap the button expertly. She shoots me a glance that's one part shock, and ten parts excited. It's a look I've put on her face every time we've reconnected, and it's never gotten old - only better with every encounter.

She might struggle to tell me she loves me, but her pussy has no problem telling me what I need to know.

She's giving me the 2nd best compliment: she's dripping wet for me - my knuckles graze her panties, soaked in her own excitement. She fucking wants me. Bad.

I feel her pussy up, so soft and wet. I can feel my cock practically ripping my skin it's so engorged for her. I cannot wait to get it in her and watch her face when I first penetrate her and invade her space to claim as my own.

I grab her hand and place it on my cock.

I want her to feel what she does to me too. It's only fair. She's a writer at heart, after all. She'll appreciate the art of foreshadowing, a little preview of what she’s about to take on. I love working her up and turning her on. With my words. With my eyes. With my body.

She does the same to me.

Like a reflex, she starts rubbing and stroking at my cock, she looks me in the eyes and bites her lip before her mouth goes agape and her jaw literally drops - I can tell she wants it in there, that she's imagining how good it'd feel to have my cock fill her mouth up and suck on it. That's her favorite after all - and she's fucking good at it. Really fucking good.

She can't help herself once she gets going. She's just as eager as me now, something I've always loved about her, and she expertly pops my jeans open too before reaching down my pants and stroking my cock. She’s clearly proud of how hard she’s got it, and tugs at it firmly like she's letting me know it's hers. She has a look of awe and pride to her and I find it sexy as hell. I've never desired a woman with the fervor I do for her - and I want to leave her feeling like no other man has ever made her feel more desired than I have. She stares down at my cock briefly as she strokes it, admiring her work, then up at me with a glazed look in her eye that tells me that 'want' has finally turned to 'need'.

I grab her by the hips and pull her off the wall. I swing her around towards the bedroom and walk her backwards through the turn and the doors, pushing her through the hall and down onto the bed.

She lets out a giddy laugh in excitement. In anticipation.

She says my name in pure excitement - it's all the more she can get out before I'm on top of her, feeling her up, kissing her. Letting her know how much I need her too. Before I get to her, I can't help but notice... Her eyes are big and wide, and she's grinning like it's Christmas. Yet her body's relaxed and ready for me to pounce. She wants this. A look of pure excitement. Of pure attraction. I hope she feels the same coming off of me. It's all I feel with her.

I'm working to undress her as much as I can without leaving her lips. I can't stop kissing this woman because, hey, I'm a fucking romantic, okay? I need to feel her up against me. I need to be back inside her.

I tear into her like I'm unwrapping a gift and I can't fucking wait any longer to have it. I greedily rip her jeans off, flipping them inside out as they invert around her feet. She rips her shirt off while I toss her jeans god knows where. She's wearing a navy blue bra and panties from Victoria's Secret and looks like she could sell them with just one photograph. The image of her like this is so seductive it hits me on a primal level and forcibly etches itself into my memory, like a lesson from nature that encodes itself into your very being til the day you die. Against my own will, I'll think of it damn near every day after she leaves me... and completely of my own will too. It's the best fucking curse I could ask for.

Though the moment is memorialized, it lasts only seconds before I strip down the last of her defenses. I pop the top, and drop her panties, a damp spot soaking through as a welcoming compliment.

We're both on autopilot, mostly - nature is taking it's course. It's guiding us, telling us we need to fuck. Every biological imperative is firing off between us. We call it chemistry for that very reason and who are we to fight the forces of nature? Of chemistry?

My cock is absolutely throbbing, fully engorged and then-some. It almost aches from how fucking hard this woman gets me. And she's proud of herself - which I love.

I grab her bent legs and come between them. She grabs my cock and guides it into her. She tells me to go slow. Begs me to. "Please, baby, go slow." She says with a look of pure pleasure as I slowly slide myself in. She's tight, and wet, and perfect in every way imaginable from head to toe. From front to back. Even from side to side.

She moans my name as I slide it in - a minor struggle ensues as I push deeper and deeper into her. She looks quite pleased with herself and I hope it feels as good for her pussy as it does for my cock. Nature is winning - winning so hard. God I fucking love you, nature!

She looks how I feel. Ecstasy washes over her face, her mouth agape in pure pleasure as her eyes roll back into her bouncing head, looking at the dirty thoughts I've planted in her like I'm about to plant my seed deep inside her. When I kiss her, she comes back to.

She fucks me back as I slam into her over and over and over again. I grab her ass while I slam into her, hold her firmly as I pull at her hair with the other hand. She tells me I know how to fuck her.

She's a delight for every sense. My eyes don't know where to focus - there's so much to enjoy. She's a veritable landscape of perfection. Slim waist, smooth legs, perfect tits, quivering lips, deep and expressive eyes, amazing hair. Even her fucking ears are somehow cute and I love breathing in them and telling her dirty things.

My eyes turn towards her pussy. I can't help but notice how big my cock looks in her tiny pussy. And she's paying me the ultimate compliment now.

She's creaming all over my cock.

If she ever denied it in the past, she no longer can: She fucking loves what I do to her and the evidence is pooling in my sheets.

My cock is practically coated in white from her. It's a point of pride for me. Her face is pure pleasure as I continue to rail on her with my coated cock. I love doing this to her. I love being with her.

She tells me she's going to cum. She tells me "right there!" "don't stop," "keep going," "please let me cum, baby!" I tell her she's not allowed to cum until I tell her to, but quickly fold, because all I want to do is get this woman off. It's all I'm good for, and I'm okay with that. Her pleasure means more to me than my own. Her pleasure is my pleasure.

I can feel the contractions as she cums and my pride swells. I love seeing her like this. I love knowing I did this to her. I want to do it 1000 times more, and then 1000 times 1000 times more. I'm addicted to doing this with her - it's never gotten old and there's so much more I want to do to her.

She gets hers before me, it's how it should be. But now it's my turn. I kiss at her while I fuck her, savoring every bit of her and loving the moment. I love feeling every bit of her as I use her pussy to stroke the full length of my cock.

I need to fill her up. Like, I can't properly explain just how badly I need to know that a bit of me is in her. I quite literally couldn't give a fuck with any other woman - I'm just doing it to scratch an itch with them, but nothing deeper. With her, it feels infinitely better and I MUST fill her up - this fucking means something, god damn it. This is the meaning of life right here. I have to. I want to know that she has me in her. There's literally no better feeling than this.

I thrust away at her, enjoying every one. I want this moment to last forever because part of me is constantly aware that this may be the last time I get to enjoy this woman that I love. There's no thrill in this fear. It's just suffocating. I drown it out best I can, kiss her with more fervor, fuck her with more passion. I feel the pressure mounting - the build up of chemicals ready to be unleashed.

She's telling me she loves the way I fuck her, and that I fuck her so good. She tells me she loves my cock. "Too much cock, baby... No, no, no. Stop. Too much cock." But she's told me she loves it when I fuck beyond her Noes. I keep pumping away, and she loves me for it. She wants me in her as much as I want to be there and she won't feel satisfied unless she makes me cum. She got on the pill just for me, after all. She wants me to be able to feel all of her, and cum deep inside her as much as I can.

She tells me how much she loves my cock some more, tells me to cum for her. I love when she tells me to cum for her. I listen to her, and fill her up. She looks so happy when I do. She loves it when I give her what she wants. She milks every drop out of me by fucking me back - the sensation is intense, almost overpowering, and I collapse on her.

After collapsing on her, I feel at peace. I could die now and that'd be just fine. I let my cock rest in her because I like being close and I never want to leave this place. I let the electric bliss wash over me as I lay in her arms, pinned under me. I think of the future and get scared. Not of the future - I want that more than anything - but of how it probably won't ever happen. Fear starts to chirp in my mind, and I find myself thinking about how this might be the last time I get to enjoy this woman before she leaves me, even though I know she's happy. Even though I know she's satisfied. I mean, she creamed on my cock, she loved every moment, she's literally laying in a puddle of her own delight that is bigger than any aftermath puddle I've ever seen with any other woman. I KNOW that this woman loves me, loves what we do, how we connect... loves my cock, and loves pleasing me.

I know she loves me outside the bedroom too. I know she thinks of me as a possible lover, a possible husband. But none of that ever seems to matter in the end. Our passion for one another is mutually assured destruction.

I try to suppress the fear and just get lost in the moment. But it's there. Always. And I can't ever fully mute it.

The cruelest irony of all is that she's the one who put it there.

I try to push it out as best I can and move to cuddling. I love this part. Almost more than the sex.

Almost.

I love how close the sex brings us. The intimacy, the bonding, the swapping of secrets and our vulnerable bits. I love looking in her eyes and seeing everything in them. I read the poetry from her eyes, and feel I am the only one who can.

I later find out, in her own words, it's true. I am the only man who can. And she memorialized the moment in a poem of it's own.

But in that present moment, we talk about our love, our feelings, how much we enjoyed ourselves, and how much we mean to one another.

And I want so desperately to believe her words hold meaning, because I know every one of mine does. She's the one with the English degree. Her words have to count for something, right? Or is it a case of you need to know the rules to break them...

I silently pray I'll see her again. That she enjoyed her time with me. That she loves me the way I love her.

And I hate that I have to always feel this way.

I hate that I have to always be thinking that the woman that I love more than anyone could leave me at any moment for any reason or no reason at all. I hate I have to question her words. Her love. But it's what she's trained me to do. I'm sure she hates it too.

And now here I am, reliving fond memories, lovely memories, of the woman I wanted more than anything in this world. Who I thought got along together with, in a make-believe kind of way, but that we both appreciated how real it is, and how lucky we were to have ever found that with one another in this lonely world. But only one of us ever truly appreciated it. The other was fine to give it up. Over and over and over again.

Despite her saying it's a connection unlike any other she's encountered in 6 years (likely 7 now), despite telling me she wants to marry me, even getting engaged, despite always being down for sex, despite talking about moving in together for years, getting married for years, despite secret poetry revealing love she harbored for half a decade, and lamenting not being with me, about regrets of choosing others over me, of thinking of all the things you could have had by now if you had chosen me much earlier... Despite all that, you still end things and run.

You don't run because you're settling with me. The passion between us is undeniable. You don't run because there was ever any abuse. You don't run because we don't get along. You don't run because we lack chemistry or connection or values, or any major things. You run because you're scared to make the wrong choice, to close off all other options, and worst of all: that you might lose yourself in me.

And it's such a shame because we could have lived so much life together by now, made so many memories, seen so much, and maybe even have kids by now, if we had stayed together all those years ago.

You were afraid to get from me the things you lacked in your other relationships: Love. Success. Devotion. Romance. Desire.

Instead you chose what's most familiar for you, even knowing how bad it is for you: abuse, failure, uncertainty, instability, chaos, and games.

You gambled, and you lost. Threw your heart into a sinkhole, when you could have built something real with me on firm ground.

You chose poison - and make no mistake, it was a choice - What do you have to show for it?

0 notes

realmflora · 9 months ago

Text

Confrontation, Poison, and Unrequited Love

Chero is goddamn tired of stupid voices in his head ruining his day. Like, very goddamn tired. So, probably despite Adi's wishes(if they knew), he temporarily lowers his soul back into the same place he fought Scaramouche and talked to Cyrille. His mental space, which has an invader running through it's veins.

Chero blinks his eyes open, feeling exhausted. Heaven above, even his soul is tired.. how is that even possible? He's slept like, three times. Within the past day. Surely this isn't healthy. "Well, nothing I ever do is actually healthy, is it?" He grumbles. "Yeah, no. I have to say, you've changed far too much for my liking."

!!!! Chero stands up in an instant, recognizing that voice that has been deeply annoying him since that hallucination. "So I was fucking right. There is someone here. Who the fuck are you?!"

"I was going to say I'm offended, but it's your annoying sister's fault that you don't remember me. I can't blame you for something that isn't in your control. I don't want your love for me to falter." A person appears in front of him, causing Chero to jump back. It's a girl, presumably. She had tan skin and blonde, tight-curled hair that was tied into two low buns. There was a flower in her hair- it was a white rose. There were two things that Chero's eyes darted to first. One, the massive gaping hole on the left side of her chest where her heart should've been. You could see the flesh and the bone that was so brutally picked and ripped apart. Next, was the wound on her left eye. It looked like a gunshot wound to the face, the skin having torn apart and splatted all over the rest of her face. You could literally see her skull.

"...Heavens, the fuck happened to you? You look like you've been through ten Timeflower Wars and back.." Chero says, straightening uncertainly. He didn't like the vibes he got from this person. This kid, even. She looked about 10 or 11 years old..

"You happened, silly!" The girl laughs, listening to Chero's observations and nervousmess with a fond smile. Years and years later, he's still the same nervous boy she loves. Even if he's more murdery and whatnot, he was still the same underneath! "Like I said, you don't remember because of your pesky sibling. But I'm here now, and I'm going to help you!"

Chero takes an involuntary step back. Since this was his mindspace, he could hear the thoughts she was having too. Or at least, the overall general aura of them. "..You love me? Why? And even so, I've never felt romantic attraction a day in my life. I would've remembered you if I actually loved you. Strong emotions like that still come through even through memory blockage."

"You do love me!" The girls voice suddenly becomes possesive. Demanding. Chero's eyebrow raises. "You said it yourself when you killed me! You stole my heart, literally and metaphorically! We're destined to be together forever, don't you see?!"

She suddenly teleports forward and grabs two of Chero's four hands. Chero hisses and pulls his hands away. Based on the way the air shimmered, she must be a ghost, he realizes. But why would one of his victims love him? It made no sense.

"It's because I knew you before you were experimented on." The girl says, answering his thoughts, which makes him even more at unease. "I was your first victim, even. I know you from the realm we were both so ungratefully sacrificed to, and it was us versus every other sickly child that was stuck with us. I've killed for you time and time again, and you loved me. You did. You just don't remember!" "Girl, I'm sorry to burst your desperate bubble, but if you knew me from when I was the age 7 to 10, I definitely didn't love you romantically." Chero keeps a good distance away from her. "Specifically when I was 7 or 8. I was really good at masking and faking my emotions, so whatever I showed towards you was most likely just to.. make you happy." Eugh. Deja vu.. Chero stares at the ground for a good moment, eye widening slowly. "The heart I saw earlier... that was yours." He stares at her. "The feeling of sickness I get when I comfort people. That comes from you. You..." He takes another step back. "What did you do to me?"

"I loved you all I could, and you loved me back." The girl says. "We're destined to be together. You took my heart, and if you won't take mine, I'll simply take you myself. All of you." Without any warning, Chero is picked up by some unknown force and is thrown against a back wall. "SHIT-" Chero positions himself to get up, but before he can, several bright green chains emerge from the wall and tie him in place. Which shouldn't even be fucking possible, it's his mental space! Who the fuck is this girl to think she has the right to do this and spout literal bullshit??? "Your sister and the heaven overlord are coming to check on you, my dear bunny." The girl stares up at him with an affectionate, but poisonous smile. "I'll take over for you until you've come to your senses and you can remember everything, okay? I'm sure no one will notice the difference." ?!- "What the fuck do you-" Chero can barely get a word out before something loops in his brain. Your sister. But- Sakura's-

"Bye-bye, my love!" The girl blows him a kiss before disappearing, causing the chains around Chero. He struggles against them, finally remembering the girls name so that he could call out to her in vain. "ANEMONE!"

------

Angelic possession is a very long and annoying process, and it takes a long, long time to actually pull it off- especially if you're only a mere angel compared to a celestial. But, Chero's soul was broken and hollow enough that Anemone could take over for him. She'll fix everything. She'll relieve him of his pains, just for him.

And then, finally,

He will love her.

#obsessive snakebite #<- everyone welcome guest muse 1!

0 notes

kyovtani · 4 years ago

Text

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 – 𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 (𝟐)

— pairing: Kyoutani Kentarou x female Reader

— genre: smut, angst, little bit of fluff to keep the balance; tattoo artist!kyoutani, inexperienced!reader, strangers to lovers!AU, SLOW BURN

— word count: 9.6k

— warnings: swearing, mentions of infidelity and violence, as well as the consumption of drugs and alcohol; smut: corruption kink, degradation and dumbification, dacryphilia, praising, spitting, (soft) dom!kyou, oral (m. receiving), fingering, dry humping, unprotected sex (dont do that kids), impreg kink, iwaoi say hi-

— (A/N: and here’s part two! thank you SO much for all the love you sent my way after i published the first part. ngl i was a little nervous bc i thought it was boring and not interesting at all but you guys easily pushed me out of that hole so thank you for everything. i love and appreciate you with my whole heart. all the love, zade xx)

[ part one ]

— summary: after fucking up, you make it your mission to get him back..(im so bad at this pls just- okay.)

"He's not picking up, Hana", you say, another soft cry falling from your lips before you bury your face in your pillow.

“Once in my fucking life a guy treats me good and the way I've always wanted to be treated and I had to fuck it up. Why the fuck am I like this, Hana? Why can I not enjoy one fucking good thing in my fucking mediocre life", the profanities keep coming just like the tears and the amount of frustration and anger rushing through your veins is nowhere near normal anymore.

"Calm down, love", Hana sighs and makes you sit up so she can look into your tear stained face as she tries her best to make sure her words actually find their way to your pain clouded mind, "at this point you shouldn't worry too much because you do know Kyoutani, don't you? He does lose his temper a lot, so give him the time he needs and then you'll show up at his doorstep, suck his cock and make up with him, yeah?", she explains calmly.

"If this hurts you so much, why the fuck did you even say he's just a friend, Y/N? I really don't understand", Hana mumbles and lets out another sigh, her hands caressing yours softly, managing to calm you down a little bit.

“You're right, I should just– give him some time and things will eventually fall into place", you reply after crying a little more and with an encouraging smile your best friend nods at you before she suggests a movie marathon to which you happily agree.

At least something to distract you from all the demons inside your head.

After changing into your pj's and doing your night time routine, you plop down onto the couch next to your bestie again, her eyes focused on the phone in her hand and knowing she's probably either sexting or inviting her new boyfriend has you shrugging at her lack of attention as you start looking for a good movie to begin the night with.

However, just when you're about to read the description of some kind of french rom-com, Hana puts her phone back into her lap and starts staring at you with her pretty eyes widened in shock.

"What's wrong?", you ask and turn to look at her, reaching for her hands but before you even get the chance to touch her, Hana unlocks her phone and holds it up for you to watch someone's instagram story.

The video begins with loud music, a crowd full of young college students whose faces definitely are familiar.

Everyone in the video is dancing, making out, smoking and just chatting in a random living room and every now and then there's someone yelling in the back – a typical college party.

However, just as the video is about to end, the camera shifts to a tall male leaning against the wall, obviously standing really close to the person who's filming and it takes you a full blown thirty seconds to realize who said male is.

Kyoutani Kentarou.

You stare at the phone for another minute, your throat dry and your head empty as a thick veil of tears slowly starts blurring your sight before you finally decide to pay attention to the username.

"He can't be fucking serious", you hiss, fisting the blanket beneath you, the urge to punch something or someone becoming unbearable, "what the fuck is he doing at a random college party with – Sora?"

"Y/N, don't–", "Whose party is that?", you interrupt your best friend, not giving a single fuck about her attempts to calm you down; not anymore. Hana gulps harshly and strictly avoids your gaze as she mumbles a name and you roll your eyes, asking her to speak up with an annoyed sigh.

"It's one of Yuuji’s frat parties", and as soon as your best friend says the name of your ex-boyfriend, a cold shiver of disgust runs down your spine and you can feel yourself getting lightheaded from all the emotions rushing through your overwhelmed body.

"Don't follow me if you're going to stop me from leaving, Hana", you say and stand up before quickly disappearing inside your room.

You have no idea how you manage to get dressed, your outfit consisting of a pair of jeans and a hoodie you can't even remember buying and you don't even wanna think about what your hair and face look like when you end up leaving the house with your keys and your phone.

After driving this route for over two years on an almost daily basis, it takes you less than ten minutes to arrive in front of the huge house your ex-boyfriend lives in.

The memories start finding their way back into your head way too fast, taking away your breath and numbing your whole body because even if you didn’t love Yuuji anymore, the bitter feeling of betrayal still manages to hit you in just the right way.

It takes you a lot of willpower to actually approach the house and eventually get in. And after being in between the crowds of drunk, stinky college students, you remember why you hate college parties so much.

"I – Wow”, a familiar voice manages to break through the loud music, your instant reaction just an annoyed eye roll, “you were the last person I expected to see at one of our frat parties", Yuuji says and comes to stand in front of you.

His blonde hair messily falling into his handsome face and from the way his whole face seems to be covered in the deepest shade of red – including his eyes – you know that he's probably higher than the stars and you can't help but sigh.

"I'm not here to party, Yuuji", you hiss, feeling the anger crawl up your spine again the longer you look at your ex, "my boyfriend is here and I have to talk to him."

"So you and that tattooed guy are actually a thing? Didn't think so since he, you know – showed up with another girl", Terushima mumbles and pulls out a cigarette from his pocket, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Yuuji", you spit back and roll your eyes, taking in the way the pretty boy arches his brows up in pure shock at your rather new attitude, "go and get high or whatever you do to feel proud of yourself", are the last words you say to him before you walk away, your heart thrumming inside your throat.

Your eyes roam the huge crowd, desperately searching for the only face you wanna look at right now and you try to remember where they were standing in the video Sora had posted only to realize that you can't remember.

After all you only watched the video once, your whole attention laying on Kyoutani. And after almost fifteen minutes, you find yourself slowly giving up.

Maybe this was just not meant to happen or maybe Kyoutani has left already.

He probably left with Sora- something you can’t and won’t ever blame him for.

After all she's literally one of the prettiest and hottest girls you have ever seen – anyone who rejects her would be out of their mind (or not attracted to girls which isn't the case when it comes to Kyoutani).

You give it another ten minutes of desperately looking around before you let out a deep sigh which gets lost in the loudness and thick air of the party before you finally start making your way back to the front door.

You quickly walk back to your car, trying your best to ignore everyone around you, especially all the drunk guys who are currently about to get into a verbal fight over something totally random and the last thing you want to experience those threats becoming reality.

At some point you're scared they might even include you which is probably why you end up literally sprinting and even though you always park so far away from frat houses just because you've heard way too many stories of people getting their cars stolen during parties, but right now you just wished you would have listened to your gut feeling and parked in front of the fraternity like every normal person.

However, to your life long luck, you spot a tall figure standing a little too close to your vehicle just as you’re about to unlock it. You slow down your movements almost instantly upon seeing the stranger, yet your eyes still try to figure out if it's someone you know despite the darkness surrounding the two of you.

He has probably spotted you by now, after all you're still panting like crazy from speed walking down to where your car is and it takes you a full minute to realize how loud you're actually being.

"Y/N", the male suddenly says, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine and even though it could have been everyone, it sounds a tad bit too familiar to your ears which is probably why you end up approaching him slowly.

"It's me, Kyoutani", he adds and at the same moment the words leave his lips, you finally recognize his pretty features which seem extra beautiful underneath the bright moonlight.

And then realization hits you.

"How did you know–", "Hana called me and asked if I could make sure you got home even if I didn't want to talk to you. So, here I am. Get in the car so I can tell her I did my part of the job", he interrupts you quickly, obviously not having the intention to interact with you and the way his usually so tender-filled eyes and calming voice are nothing but ice-cold has a thick veil of tears blurring your sight.

Never ever did you think about the moment, where Kyoutani puts the cold mask on he loved to hide behind when he had first looked at you all those weeks ago.

And the longer he avoids your gaze, the heavier the burden on your chest becomes.

"I'm sorry, Tani", you whisper, your voice breaking at the end, easily giving away how much his cold demeanor has gotten to you.

“Of course you're not just a friend to me and I d-don't know why I introduced you like that, everything happened so quickly and I – panicked. It's not an excuse and does not justify my behavior but I just wanted you to know that you've always been more than just a friend to me", you continue, managing to keep talking upon realizing that Kyoutani won't interrupt you and the way he even listens to you with his eyes looking everywhere but yours is absolutely enough for you.

"What am I to you then, Y/N? Am I the guy you're casually fucking? Your booty call? Am I your second choice? Like what the fuck do you expect me to say? I know we never put a label to – this", he starts pointing at you and then himself, "but you knew I was serious about it, about you. So, I just don't understand why you would even think about considering me a friend. I told you that I am not one for that friends with benefits kinda shit and you agreed yet you did this and now I can't help but be convinced you just used me to get that Yuuji fucker.”

Kyoutani is angry and he doesn't even try to hide it as he spits out those words, the ones he’s probably been dying to say out loud for the past few days and you know he has every right to actually be mad at you, his words still hit you in a way you didn't expect them to.

"I'd never do that to you, Kentarou; I'd never use you like that, please believe me", you say quickly, a little surprised you're even able to form proper sentences.

“You m-mean so much to me and I just don't know how to put it into words. My heart hurt so much when I watched you type your number into Sora's phone but the demons in my head, they just kept talking over my heart and – I'm just really sorry, Kyou, I really am", you sigh and after realizing that he's not going to look at you, you finally manage to shift your gaze away from his pretty face.

"Go home, Y/N. It's been a long day for both of us and I think some more distance will help me get my mind straight", Kyoutani replies after a long, torturous beat of silence lingering in the cold air and even if it wasn’t the reply you had hoped to hear, you're glad he's at least not completely ending it.

"Okay b-but at least let me drive you home?", you ask softly, wiping away the few tears which had managed to escape and when you look up at the beautiful faced male in front of you, his eyes meet you for the first time since what feels like forever and you feel yourself melting away.

"I don't think that's a good idea, pretty girl", Kyoutani sighs, the soft pet name sending your mind into the sweetest haze of comfort just like that, "it's only been a few days but I am craving your touch and I just know I'm going to lose it and fuck you against the next best surface if we get into that car together, so I have to decline this offer", he adds and takes another step back, his lips stretching into a tiny smile and you can’t deny how much his words have you gotten you worked up, but you have no choice but to nod.

"Have a good night, baby", Kyoutani sighs and deep down you're hoping for a kiss, after all it's been way too long since you got to feel close to him but instead, he just lifts his hand up and starts waving at you and just as he is about to turn around, you find yourself reaching for his wrist. The fear and despair inside of you making you a little too brave for your personal liking but you know you can't just let him walk away like that.

"Please, Tani- Kyoutani", you whisper and let out a soft sigh of relief when he turns around to face you again, "I won't try anything, I just want to spend a little bit more time with you."

Kyoutani takes a deep breath, his dark eyes roaming your face and wandering down your body and even though it feels like he's literally devouring you alive, you enjoy his burning gazes regardless, a hidden part inside of you even craving them.

A solid minute passes by before he lets out a sigh and gives you a nod, his plump lips pressed into a thin line.

It takes you another deep breath and a couple of seconds to actually calm yourself down from the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through within the time span of an hour and as you sit there in your car, inhaling the cold air of the night, your mind starts replaying everything that went down, starting from the day you met Kyoutani, to your first and most recent kiss, as well as the encounter with Sora and your deep anger towards Yuuji.

The drive to Kyoutani's apartment passes by in a blur, way too fast for your liking and you can't help but pout when you pull up in front of the huge building, knowing very well that this will be the last interaction with the handsome tattoo artist for the upcoming few days and you can already feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

He's been awfully quiet, not like you actually said anything but Kyoutani's silence was intense, boring into your soul and actually suffocating you to a point where the urge to just jump out of the car became overwhelming.

You know he's probably going through everything just like you, yet the feeling that his thoughts are more on the negative side just won't leave you alone and you hate the way your assumptions are being confirmed as soon as Kyoutani turns to look at you.

"I – love you, Y/N", he suddenly says, his voice soft and calm, yet still deep and the way it's filled with tenderness and the sweetest bit of longing makes the effect of those magical words even heavier.

Your lips part in shock, your head having a difficult time actually processing his confession and you can feel your whole body going into a standby mode.

"But you're not good for me."

You remember the way your heart broke into thousands of pieces when you found out the alleged love of your life was cheating on you without even batting an eye.

The pain was so intense and heavy, you didn't know how to deal with it and at some point you were convinced that your heart had stopped beating for a solid minute. It was bad, left you speechless and threw you into a hole of darkness you barely managed to escape from, yet still leaving you grateful for the experience.

You thought your first heartbreak would be able to prepare you for what's to come in the future, but what you went through as soon as those words had fallen past Kyoutani’s lips, can't be compared to anything you've ever felt before.

Your heart starts clenching as his words keep replaying inside of your head and your throat so is going absolutely dry from your desperate attempts to gasp for air as the feeling of being suffocated comes back.

Everything around you seems to disappear, your eyes still focused on Kyoutani's intense gaze as the feeling of emptiness starts filling up your whole body.

You easily lose track of time, your heart beat so slow and heavy and when the wave of reality crashes you yet again, an almost inaudible sob falls past your lips.

"B-But...", you can't get yourself to speak, the words getting stuck in your throat and soft cries the only thing filling the inside of your car.

And yet, there are so many things you want to tell him, so many things rushing through your mind at the highest speed, almost impossible to grasp them and actually put them into proper sentences.

"You have too much control over me. I lost myself trying to fit into the picture of a lover you need and deserve. But – I am not who I used to be anymore”, Kyoutani explains, nervously rubbing the sides of his pierced node with his thumb as he avoids looking in your direction at all costs.

“I am scared of losing what's obviously not mine. You make me feel weak and vulnerable and I just can't deal with it. You've become the center of my world, and I can't control how much it affects me. How much you affect me and – I hate it", he continued, his voice is still incredibly calm, yet a bittersweet tone of fear coating every single one of his words.

"B-But...", yet again, the whole of your vocabulary seems vanished, not one word to say as the knot in your throat tightens even further.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I thought I could do it but – I am not meant to love and you deserve to be loved in the most special way possible”, he takes another quick break, letting out a sigh of exhaustion, “and that's why I'm letting you go. Please, don't hate me. Take care and – goodbye, my love.”

Those are his last words before he presses his lips against your forehead, making your head spin like crazy because of the contrast of his heartbreaking words and his soft kiss.

Kyoutani leaves without saying another word. He doesn't even look back once as he walks away and enters the apartment building, while you can't stop staring at the door with hot tears streaming down your cheeks and loud sobs filling the suffocating air surrounding you.

There you are, yet again.

Your eyes staring into the dark night as your body tries to cope with the intensity of pain you've thought you had overcome.

The constant breaking of your heart starts numbing every part of your body and you slowly start losing yourself in this certain kind of darkness.

Seconds turn into minutes and without even realizing, a whole hour has gone by with you staring into nothing.

Your mind plays games with you as it keeps replaying his words, his behavior, his kiss and the feeling of slowly but certainly going insane as you get out of the car a little too fast.

You tumble back, the sudden coldness hitting you right in the face and the mental as well as physical exhaustion has your body trembling.

And then it hits you.

The wave of anger, wrath, frustration and hatred literally wakes you up, pulls you back into reality and ends up taking over you completely.

Your eyes find the huge apartment building Kyoutani lives in, staring at it as if you could set it on fire and you know what you're about to do is a bad idea but your body acts before your mind can even get the chance to intervene.

And that's how you find yourself almost brutality slamming your fist against Kyoutani's door, your heart hammering against your rib cage way too fast for it to be still physically healthy and ten thousand different thoughts rushing through your chaotic mind.

"What the fuck is going – Y/N", Kyoutani looks at you with his pretty eyes slightly widened in shock, his lips parting as he struggles to keep his eyes on you and a disgusting feeling of shame and embarrassment starts filling you up.

You know this is pathetic, you are aware of how stupid you look standing in front of him like this but you just can't get yourself to actually care about it.

"Y/N, please don't-", "No, I listened to what you had to say and now I'm going to talk and you're going to listen to me. Before that I am not going anywhere because I deserve this", you cut him off, hands balled into fists as you try to stay calm but the more you think about his words in the car, the angrier you get.

"I–", Kyoutani sighs, his eyes nervously roaming your face and upon noticing the way you seem to shiver from the cold and your lack of clothing, he lets his conscience get the best of him, "alright, come in then.”

You follow him inside, the familiar scent of vanilla and Kyoutani's favorite febreeze scent filling your nose and you hate the way how comfortable you are.

After all you've been spending quite some time in this apartment; visiting him after your classes so he could bury his face between your legs and then offer you some homemade food, followed by a good old ghibli movie and lots of cuddles has become some kind of routine.

Oh, how you hate him for ruining all of those memories.

"Do you want something to drink? You're probably freezing", he offers, his voice filled with concern and you know he is right and you'd definitely give everything for a cup of tea and maybe some water, you still shove all of your body’s basic needs into the very back of your head and try to regain your composure.

"I – you – we", you take a deep breath, your mind struggling to put all of those racing thoughts into some kind of order, yet failing miserably.

But there's so much you want to say to him; so many things you want him to hear and now that you are actually standing in front of him, your body betrays you.

"You're a fucking coward, Kyoutani Kentarou", is the first thing you finally manage to let out, "and I hate you for leaving me like this. I fucking hate you.”

Deep down, you hate yourself for saying those words; the choice of words and the incredible heaviness they come with are usually not your way of expressing yourself yet you're not regretting them.

You don't know how this night is going to end, maybe this will be the last time you get to see Kyoutani or he'll eventually fuck you into oblivion and you finally end up together; but nevertheless you want your words to hurt him; you want them to wake him up just like his did to you.

"How dare you confess your love to me and tell me I basically ruined your life in the same breath when you're the one who's fucking all of this – us up. Yes, I’ve made a mistake and I've been regretting my choice of words for the past four days, even came to the point where I accepted your distance and decided to let go because I know how much my words hurt you. But us ending like this? Definitely not going to happen", Kyoutani stares at you with his pretty eyes focusing you attentively, barely blinking, not moving at all; he’s just listening to you.

"I just – don't understand how you can be this oblivious."

"Oblivious? Oblivious to what?", he asks, his voice a little deeper and raspier, sending goosebumps straight dow your spine as if your body needed to remind you the effect he has on you.

"Oblivious to everything. This is what love does to people, Kentarou. Of course you're going to feel weak and vulnerable because of me - because of the one you love. After all the point of being loved and loving someone else is showing those vulnerabilities and weakness to the person you trust the most because you know, or at least you hope, they won't take advantage of it.”

You take a deep breath, your mind slowing down as you ease yourself into his calming embrace and subconsciously losing yourself in the comfort it comes with.

“I'm yours. I've been yours since the very first day and we both know this, that's why you are so scared of losing me. And that's why my words hurt you so much”, you can tell that he’s already processing your words as much as he can; his habit of scratching the back of his head giving him away easily.

"You said you've lost yourself trying to fit into this picture of someone who I deserve but – you are the one who created that picture in the first place. Just because my first boyfriend was an alleged goody two shoes doesn't mean that you have to be like that too. Fuck that", you hiss, the thought of Kyoutani changing even the slightest bit about himself sending jolts of anger through your veins, "I don't care if you dropped out of college or that you have tattoos and piercings and bleach blonde hair. None of that matters to me because it's you, your kind heart and your pure soul I fell in love with.”

And suddenly - you can feel the burden on your shoulders disappear when those certain words leave your lips and the second Kyoutani raises his eyebrows in slight surprise before he locks eyes with you again has another breath of fresh air run through your suffocated lungs.

"Yes, I'm in love with you, Kyoutani Kentarou. Believe it or not, but for me, you're perfect just like this, with all your tiny habits and every single tattoo. There's nothing I'd change about you and I'm genuinely, truly sorry if I ever made you feel like you needed to change for me. You're a great guy and I guess that's why I ran back here after sitting in that car, crying for an hour because I couldn't stop thinking about the way you confessed your love to me”, you feel the thick veil of tears appear before they manage to block your sight, making the pretty face in front of you turn into bourry little pixels as your emotions overwhelm you.

“And yes, you are meant to be loved; maybe not meant to be loved by me but you deserve to be loved, do you hear me?"

You go up to him, closing some of the distance between the two of you before your finger darts out and poke his strong chest, trying to ease the tension after letting go of all those thoughts, "you deserve to love and to be loved because you're a good person. And I just – wanted to thank you for letting me into your life. Meeting you, getting to know the beautiful person you are has been one of the best things that has happened to me and I will cherish these memories forever."

And with those words you take a deep breath, let out another sigh, goving away your acceptance of defeat before you lift your head and prepare yourself to say your last goodbye no matter how painful it is.

"Take care, Kyoutani Kentarou and thank you, for everything", the words fall past your lips in the form of a whisper solely because you're too scared to break if you raised your volume just slightly.

You turn around and feel the first tear find its way down your cheek before you even get to walk away.

And just as you wrap your fingers around the doorknob, the sound of rushed footsteps approaching you makes you halt your movements.

"D-Don't go", Kyoutani suddenly says, his voice breaking when he comes to stand behind you, so close you can actually feel the warmth he's radiating, "I need you...so bad", he whispers into your ear, pressing his forehead against the back of your neck and it's like everything that happened tonight becomes irrelevant.

You turn around, not expecting Kyoutani to push you against the door with his whole body, yet still embracing him as much as you can.

With a soft sob, you start inhaling his unique scent, grazing his soft skin with your fingers and letting the warmth blossom inside of your chest after feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath your palm.

"Don't leave me, please", he cries, the tears running down his flushed cheeks despite his desperate attempts of holding back, "let's do this whole love thing.”

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, just hugging each other, taking in each other's presence and calming down from everything that has happened in such a short time. You finally calm down completely, Kyoutani's soft touches and tiny kisses give you the last bit of energy you needed and for the first time in almost three months, there's not one demon in your head trying to make you overthink something.

Because this feels perfect; there's literally no other word to describe the feeling of holding Kyoutani Kentarou and being held by him.

But nevertheless, you've been on a constant adrenaline rush for the past four hours and the exhaustion has been killing you, making you grow tired a lot faster than usual.

"What about moving this to your room, hm? I'd rather fall asleep with you in your bed than against the door; especially because I know the boys are out and will be coming home soon", you say softly, lifting Kyoutani's head from the crook of your neck and looking at him.

He sighs and gives you a soft kiss, giving you a nod in response before he gets himself to let go of you; his warmth leaving with him and it's almost disgusting how you literally crave his presence.

After Kyoutani makes you drink two glasses of water to avoid the dehydration of your body, he hands you one of his thick hoodies and leaves you to get ready in his bathroom.

You come back to the sight of him sitting against the headboard of his king sized bed, his oversized shirt revealing the perfect amount of collarbones and you enjoy the sight of his pretty skin and the dark lines covering most of it as well as the way his sweats hug his strong thighs in the best way possible.

And as you watch his eyes lazily roam your body, a hot jolt of arousal finds its way through your veins and right to your cunt.

"Don't look at me like that, sweet girl", Kyoutani suddenly groans and cocks his head to the side, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he gulps harshly; his eyes never once leaving yours.

"B-But Tani...", you reply, approaching him with tiny steps become you come to stand right next to his tall figure, feeling yourself growing needier because of the way your body is craving his touch now more than ever.

“Baby…”, he replies and gulps harshly, knowing your body better than yourself after weeks of getting to know you in a way nobody has ever before.

"Please, Tani...please, fuck me. I need to feel you inside of me. I've been waiting for so long...", you plead, your fingers coming to graze his pretty lips as memories of all the times he had turned you into a crying mess with those lips.

Kyoutani is just as affected by the change in tension as you, the slight bulge in his grey sweatpants as well as the hunger burning in his eyes giving him away.

"You're such a pretty angel girl, aren’t you?", he whispers and sits up, pulling you closer to make you stand in between his legs as he starts caressing your hot cheeks with his fingers.

“Yet you're saying all those naughty things”, Kentarou chuckles deeply, “imagine how people would react if they knew what a cockhungry little slut you actually are", upon hearing those degrading names, your cunt starts clenching around nothing and a high pitched whimper escaped your throat.

"For you...", you whisper, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth the second Kyoutani starts placing open mouthed kisses on your neck.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling the material of his shirt a little too tightly.

"Of course, baby, you're mine after all and this sweet cunt", the sudden feeling of his palm pressing against the damped fabric of your panties has you gasping for air, "belongs to me, and me only", Kyoutani grunts, pulling the skin of your neck between his lips before he starts sucking gently as well as slowly moving his fingers against the lacey fabric between your legs.

"Yes, it's yours", you reply, after several weeks of being intimate with Kyoutani you've learned one thing and that's how much he loves hearing you say all those dirty and lewd things, "please fuck me."

"Patience, my love, patience. I am going to fuck you", Kentarou replies calmly and suddenly pushes you away, his hands disappearing from your body and when your lid flutter open because of the lack of touch, he shoots you one of his cocky smirks, "but let's not forget the whole friend situation, hm? What about you make it up to me before I fuck you like the little whore you are?"

His words have excitement rush through your blood, your head literally spinning just from the thought of finally getting to be on the giving end after weeks of him playing the selfless lover.

You nod eagerly, anticipation sparkling in your eyes as you watch him palm himself over his sweats before you get on your knees and wait for him to let go of his now fully erect cock.

However, the more seconds pass by like this, the more nervous you become because for some reason you suddenly remember that you've basically never sucked dick before.

Your head shoots up with slight panic written all over your face and of course Kyoutani notices your change in demeanor right away.

"What's wrong, angel?", he asks you and stops the movements of his hands.

"I don't know how to do it, Tani", you whisper, knowing there's no point in being shy about it, after all he happens to be the guy you've experienced your most firsts with.

"It's okay, baby, I'm going to help you”, Kyoutani replies and actually loses his composure for a second, “fuck baby, don't look at me like this when I'm literally about to fuck your throat", he hisses, throwing his head back as he grunts and his hips desperately bucking into the air.

Kyoutani takes another deep breath before he finally pushes his hand underneath the waistband of his sweats and with your eyes focused on his movements, you watch him pull out his hard length, a soft hiss falling past his plump lips when the coldness of the room grazes the slightly wet tip of his cock.

You gulp harshly, his impressive size in girth as well as length has your pussy throbbing like crazy, yet you can't help but wonder how the hell he's going to fit inside of you.

“Don't worry, baby, I know you're going to take all of my cock like the good girl you are", Kyoutani says after observing your facial expressions for some time.

"Give me your hand", he asks you softly, his voice still raspy and incredibly hoarse yet still soothing and you appreciate his attempts to calm himself down so you won't feel too nervous. With your heart slamming against your rib cage, you lift your hand up and are slightly overwhelmed at the sudden feeling of Kyoutani's warm spit pooling inside your palm. Without adding anything, he straightens himself and motions you to stroke his hard cock.

Not once do you stop looking at him as you wrap your fingers around the base of his impressive length and slowly start jerking him off.

Kyoutani cocks his head to the side, his bottom lip pulled in between his teeth and his eyes constantly fluttering close.

"Start with the tip, angel- just wrap your lips around it and start sucking, but be careful with your teeth, yeah baby?", he grunts, his hips thrusting into your fist every time the pace of your strokes slows down.

You give him yet another nod before look up at him one more time and do as he says.

The feeling of his cock between your lips is – different.

It feels like it's not supposed to be there, yet the salty taste of his precum coating your tongue has you sighing softly. Your tongue darts out, giving his tip a tiny kitten lick before you go back to sucking on it eagerly.

And while you seem to enjoy it a lot, Kyoutani is going absolutely crazy. You can see the way he's tensing his body as his grip in the bed sheets tightens and the vein on his neck pops out.

"F-Fuck, baby, just like that", he praises you "now try to take more of it in a-and use your hand for the rest", Kyoutani's voice is shaky, his eyes are nervously roaming your swollen lips and the string of spit connecting them to the tip of his cock.

Without giving it another thought, you take a deep breath and take more of him, trying your best to not graze his sensitive cock with your teeth and despite your initial struggle, you still enjoy the feeling of his cock on your tongue.

You subconsciously wrap your fingers around the part of his cock which you can't fit inside your mouth and suddenly it's like your body knows exactly what to do.

Kyoutani's moans grow louder and the soft thrusts of his hips become a little less controlled. You look up at him every now and then, trying your best to keep the steady rhythm as you bop your head.

And then he suddenly thrusts his length all the way to the back of your throat, your gag reflex just about to go off when he pulls back which is the moment you take notice of the tears streaming down your cheeks.

You give him a soft smile before going back to wrapping your lips around his tip, but you don't get very far.

Kyoutani pulls you back, his grip on the back of your neck not firm enough to hurt you.

"I promise I'm going to fuck your throat properly and even cum in your mouth the next time we do this but right now I just can't stop thinking about that tight cunt of yours", he says, helping you get up and almost instantly pulling you onto his lap; his wet cock rubbing against your panty covered core as Kyoutani pulls you in for a kiss.

It's sloppy and rushed, the way his tongue grazes over yours before he pulls it between his lips and starts sucking at it. Your hips start moving against his cock, your sensitive pussy craving some kind of friction as the arousal has your head spinning like crazy.

You start moaning and whimpering into his mouth when Kyoutani’s hips start meeting your desperate movements, applying the perfect amount of pressure onto your needy clit.

You feel the knot in the pit of your stomach tightening, the clenching of your cunt becoming worse the more you hump Kyoutani's cock like a woman starved.

But nothing prepares you for the feeling of one of his large digits entering you. Your hole start clenching around his finger Kyoutani pushes another one in, both digits buried inside of your little cunt.

"Such a good girl for me, aren't you, baby? I'm going to finger you nice and slow so you're ready for my cock. Now come on, my love; show me what a good whore you are and ride my fingers", Kyoutani encourages you, his hot breath fanning against the sensitive skin behind your ear and without missing a beat, your hips meet the skillful thrusts of his fingers.

Kyoutani continues to whisper naughty things into your ear, his other hand eventually wrapping around your throat as he makes sure you look into his eyes when you stumble over the edge.

Your high hits you hard and fast, the intensity knocking the breath out of your lungs and leaving you gasping for it; something you should be used to by now yet still can't believe is even possible.

He pushes you off of his lap softly, helps you get rid of his shirt as well as your ruined panties before he makes you lay down in the middle of his bed; eyes locking with yours when he also starts undressing.

"My pretty girl", Kyoutani sighs, his hand caressing the soft skin of your thighs, spanking you every now and then just because he's absolutely obsessed with the way your whole body tenses whenever his hand meets your skin.

“Look at me", he orders and almost instantly your head shoots up to meet his gaze, the sight of his naked body distracting you a lot more than you expected but after all this is the first time you get to see the rest of his tattoos; the ones you usually only get a tiny glimpse of depending on his outfit choice.

Kyoutani spreads your legs apart, his eyes never leaving yours even when he starts jerking off again and you can't hold back the soft whimpers and begs leaving your lips.

But also something about his flushed cheeks and swollen lips as well as his messy hair falling into his face has you incredibly turned on.

"We've never talked about this before but are you on the pill, baby?", he asks, pushing one of his thumbs into his mouth before he brings it down to your clit and starts rubbing soft circles into it, making you arch your back off of the mattress as you bury your face in the pillow to keep your noises down.

"N-No", you whisper, a deep sigh coming from Kyoutani and even though you know you shouldn’t do it, you stop him from bending over to the drawer of his nightstand, making him look at you in confusion.

“But I still want you to raw me, please...", you add and gulp harshly when his whole body seems to go into some kind of haze once the words leaveyour lips.

Kyoutani looks at you, his eyes darkening even more as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and lets out a loud moan of your name.

"I can't just raw you, baby", he presses through gritted teeth, his mask slowly falling apart the more you rub yourself against his cock, "you've never had sex without a condom and my pull out game is weak, even weaker when it comes to you because fuck – the thought of filling you up with my cum sounds so fucking good", Kyou groans when you scoot up a little, taking his length into your hand before you line him up with your entrance.

"B-But what if you get pregnant, sweet girl?", he sighs and tries to pull away, making you wrap your arms around his neck as you look into his pretty eyes.

"That will just show everyone around us how well you've fucked me", you whisper and elicit another deep moan from him, his whole body shaking slightly as he tries to hold himself back from just pounding into you.

"Such a cockhungry whore", he hisses and – finally – starts pushing his fat cock into your tiny cunt, the slight stretch making you both gasp for air.

“If that's what you want, then that’s what you get, you little slut. I'm going to fucking raw you and fill you up with all of my cum, make you my cumslut", Kyoutani grunts, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before he harshly grabs your face and looks into your eyes as he buries more of himself inside of you.

"F-Fuck, you're big", you whimper, throwing your head back and trying your very best to stop clenching around his cock.

“We're almost there, baby- you got this, s-stop clenching", Kyoutani grunts against your parted lips. Without a warning, Kyoutani pushes the rest of his huge cock inside of you, bottoming out completely.

“F-Fuck...you’re so– tight”, Kentarou grunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, “it’s like you’ve never been fucked before.”

“S-So good...so fucking good, nngh-”, your little whimpers and whines are slurred, barely coherent as the feeling of being filled to the brim pushes you into a haze of pleasure.

You feel the pulsation of his cock against your spongy walls, his hands nervously roaming your body and groping one of your tits, as he obviously tries to calm himself down.

And then he finally starts moving.

A deep, guttural moan leaves the both of you when he pulls himself out of your tight hole, dragging his huge cock along the walls of your little cunt in the most delicious way possible before he almost brutally shoves himself back in again.

“Mhm, just like that, you little brat”, he grunts, sitting up on his knees as he pushes your legs further apart, his eyes focusing the way his fat cock stretches your hole just how he’s been imagining it all this time, “coming up to me and talking about having your little cunt rawed like some cumhungry little whore.”

You start nodding almost instantly at his words, your brain barely recognizing them, the only thing you can focus on being the way the tip of his cock grazes the entrance to your womb with every harsh, brutal thrust of his hips.

His thrusts find a steady rhythm, hard and so, so deep.

“Open your mouth”, Kyoutani grunts, a single drop of sweat finding its way down the center of his tattooed chest, the sight making you whimper and whine for him even louder as you part your lips as soon as you process his words.

“You know what? I’d rather have you say it”, he suddenly hisses, pulling his cock out of your spasming cunt before he presses your legs together and shoves himself back inside of you with one skilled thrust of his hips.

You have no idea at what point you start crying but by the time Kyoutani's moans and grunts start picking up their pace, you're a sobbing mess.

“S-Say wh-what?”, you sob, hiding your tear and spit stained face behind your hands, not daring to look up at him.

“I want you to ask for my spit and beg for my cum”, Kentarou’s voice grows raspier, the dominance seething through every single one of his words makes it so easy for you to fall even further into the hole of absolute submission, “and stop hiding yourself, angel girl..I wanna watch the way I’m fucking your brains out.”

A row of loud, high pitched whines and a combination of sobs and moans are the only thing you manage to respond with, your brain clouded with the feeling of his thick cock dragging along the spongy walls of your cunt.

And before you can even comprehend his next movement, you hear the loud sound of skin meeting skin followed by the delicious feeling of a sting sending jolts of pain through your body, something you’ve come to love after so many hours with the tattoo artist.

“I told you to ask and beg for it, angel girl..you’re making me wait”, Kentarou spits, never once halting the movements of his hips as he watches the way you start sobbing even more, your cunt spasming around his cock after his painful spank.

“Please...f-fuck, please spit in my mouth and my face and on my cunt- want it all”, you start brabbling, another row of incohrent begs following right afterwars as your hips sloppily meet his harsh thrusts, “I want you to stuff me full of your cum, too- please, Daddy, wanna be your little c-cumdumpster.”

“There you go..”, Kyoutani’s plump lips stretch into a big smile as his cock throbs at the sound of that one forbidden little word he’s come to love even more after hearing it from you only a handful of times.

He didn’t hesitate to tell you about how much it turns him on around two weeks after the two fo you had started dating and even though he never really expected you to use it, he was secretely hoping for you to overcome your shyness.

You had used it only twice before when the pleasure had gotten too much for your brain to handle and Kyoutani knew you’d stop holding yourself back as soon as you got a taste of his cock.

“What did you just call me, pretty girl?”, he cooes, giggling softly at the way you whimper and cry even harder, knowing oh so well what he wants to hear.

And for the first time you just can’t get yourself to argue with the little voice in the back of your head; the feeling of his cock stretching your tiny cunt making it so, so easy to just let go of all those doubts and worries.

“Please, Daddy”, you reply and look into his eyes, groping your own tits as you arch your back to feel him even deeper inside of you, “n-need your cum inside of me...please- want everyone to know who I belong to.”

You don’t really expect it, yet your pussy almost instantly start clenching around his cock when kyoutani harshly grabs your face, making you part your lips before he spits into your mouth.

The loud, lewd sound of it rings in your ears in the best way possible and acting like a literal aphrodisiac in combination with the delicious taste of his saliva coating the hot muscle of your tongue.

You hum softly before you swallow it all, a gentle sob escaing your lips before you look up at him again.

"Now go on, angel girl”, he growls, pushing his hand in between your legs to rub circles into your hardened clit, “I want you to cum for me. Be a good little dumpster for your Daddy and show me what only I can do to you.”

You can barely process his words, the lewdness just fueling the fire in the pit of your stomach as you lose yourself in the feeling of your upcoming high. But you still start nodding, cringing at the feeling your saliva dripping down your jawline.

And with one last thrust, you feel your high crashing down onto you with such heaviness, you're left absolutely breathless.

Your whole body is trembling as the waves of your orgasm hit you, a row of incoherent words leaving your lips before you stop trying and just start crying for your precious Daddy.

"That's my baby”, is the first thing your brain manages to process again, everything still a blurry mess and when you look at Kyou, you realize you’re still cumming.

Your cunt is almost painfully spasming around his big cock, your juices dripping down the sides of his length as he helps you ride out your orgasm.

“You’re such a good, good girl for Daddy, aren’t you? I'm so proud of you", Kyoutani praises you, his thrust a little sloppier than before and from the way he's digging his fingers into the skin of your waist, you can only assume that he's also quiet close, "you're also going to take all of Daddy’s cum, right, baby? We gotta make sure I fill you up nicely..."

You take a deep breath, your slightly overstimulated cunt sending shivers down your spine as your eyes focus on Kyoutani's parted lips.

"Please, Daddy...need you to fill me up with your cum", you encourage him and when you slowly push two of your fingers into his mouth, knowing how much he loves to suck on them no matter what situation you’re both in, you finally get to see his whole face crunch up in pleasure.

His body tenses up as his grip on your waist becomes firmer before he starts cumming inside of you with a deep, raspy moan; coating the walls in several shades of white with three thick spurts of his cum.

Kyoutani buries his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly calms down, loud breathing and rushed gasps for air the only thing to fill the inside of his empty room.

"I love you so much", he whispers and gives you a soft kiss, his cock still firmly buried inside of your sensitive cunt before he shoots you a soft smile; looking almost boyish with his glossy eyes and flushed cheeks.

"I love you, too, D-Daddy”, you whisper, gulping harshly as the words leave your lips, feeling yourself grow even smaller underneath his strong yet comforting gaze, “thank you for giving us a chance", you add and pull him into for another kiss.

"Kyoutani Kentarou, your favorite group of walking disappointments is back and better than ev - oh", Iwaizumi Hajime, Kyoutani's High School best friend, fellow tattoo aritst and roommate suddenly yells and almost brutally slams open the door, startling you to the last bone in your body.

Kyoutani is quick to cover you up with his body, his hand reaching for one of the blankets on the floor as he grunts in annoyance.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know–", "What is it, Iwa-Chan? Is he jerking off again? Kyoutani Kentarou you little piece of shit, just go and fuck that–", just like Iwaizumi, Oikawa – who also happens to be his best friend, felow tattoo artist and roommate – comes to stand in the doorway, bumping into his best friend before he finally spots the two of you.

"You're naked", he points out, closing his eyes almost instantly after realizing what he has just come to witness and despite the disgusting feeling of wanting to disappear and never come back again, you can't help but giggle at their shocked and slightly disgusted faces.

Kyoutani takes a deep breath and pulls out of you, still making sure to hide you behind his body before he hands you the blanket and lets his eyes shift to the door, looking at his best friends in pure disbelief.

"Kawa stop fucking staring and – can you two please fuck off?", he yells, pulling the boys back to reality and the way both of them shift to look at you only to blush from their necks to their ears has you chuckling softly.

This type of situation is nothing you’re not used to – unfortunately.

"Uhm – of course! Oh, my fucking God! So sorry, Kyou", Iwaizumi stutters and wraps his fingers around the doorknob, avoiding your eyes as much as he can before he pushes Oikawa away and then closes the door with another row of apologies.

Kyoutani just looks at you apologetically as he shakes his head and face palms himself, making the both of you burst into loud laughter.

And after taking a shower together and actually eating some late dinner with the boys, you fall asleep with Kyoutani's arms tightly wrapped around your waist, his face buried inside the crook of your neck and one last love confession.

And when those sweet words fall past his lips yet again, you realize – you're finally home.

[ banner source ]

#haikyuu smut #hq!! smut #kyoutani smut #kyoutani kentarou smut #hq smut #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu x female reader #hq!! x female reader #kyoutani x female reader

2K notes · View notes

moonyslove78 · 2 years ago

Text

Okay, so I've had time to sulk over the ending. And time to re-read the entire chapter again to try to gather some more thoughts on what occurred. My stance still remains that you're absolutely brilliant, @liz-allyn ! The emotions you put into this series is heart-wrenching and absolutely perfect! To put into words the roller coaster of emotions and feelings I had while reading this chapter alone would be virtually impossible. But never the less, I am going to try.

First and foremost, can I just say that the dialogue with Peter and his conscious was impeccable. I have never felt so much empathy for a character that should probably have been put in his place a while ago, like I did when reading this. The fact that I had a feeling Honey was gonna give it to him ten-fold, it almost made listening to him berate himself basically unbearable.

I had a strong premonition that Venom was going to make an appearance here and you did NOT disappoint when the time came. The font used when he was speaking to Peter made it all so much more real and creepy. Your talent for being able to do certain things such as this to convey the situation amazes me even more every chapter. And this was no exception. You literally gave me chills. It was perfection!

Now, as much as I believe he needs a MASSIVE reality check, as well as take accountability for what he's put Honey through... I also have a major soft spot for Peter and Honey... as you very well know already. So my first instinct was to be like 'Please, Honey! Come in and save him from himself before he goes off the deep end any further!' And boy was I happy when she did!

I knew though that this was just the beginning. I am so glad she showed her concern for him to be 'okay', no matter how angry she is at him. It at least gave me the slightest bit of hope that she hadn't been broken to the point that she'd just let him bleed out... and even at his insistence that he'd be fine, she still made sure she helped him and took care of him. And I cannot lie, I had a bit of a proud moment when she was stitching him up and jabbed him with the needle. And his reaction was better that I could've expected. 'Because of course she would.'

I was very surprised, to say the least, that she admitted to snooping through the box. And the way she asked him about Gwen... I really didn't expect that at this point. I had expected her to be relentless on the Bella circumstance and when she switched gears and went head on into questioning him about Gwen sent me into a slight panic.

Now this is where things get a little intense... I suspected there was going to be some sexual tension between them the second she hauled back and slapped him. Just because I felt it in the moment. That's how damn good you write these two... emotions were high and Honey had reached her breaking point in that moment.

What I did NOT expect was what actually happened! Holy shit!

I was gasping for air when she demanded him to kneel. And then telling him to get her off... my jaw was on the floor the whole time. This little peek of Dom!Honey was fucking HOT!! Though I was hoping for an alternate ending to the chapter, the point where she finished and then quite literally throat kicked him away... needless to say...

Now, my emotions were flung right back in headlong when she called him out and told him he had one last chance to tell the truth. I didn't know how to feel in that moment. First I was going, 'yes! Make him tell you the truth, Honey!' But then, when he finally opened up and told her... even though I understood her contemplation of his admission completely... her reaction of 'Now I never wanna see you again...' made me go... 'now hang on a minute, Honey! You've got a few skeletons in your closet too, especially one BIG one!'

But god help me, I love these two fools so much and want them to be okay and together more than anything...so in the back of my mind I keep going, just deal with the angst that's thrown at you and take what hope you get wherever you get it.

Because as much as she wants to hate him, I don't think she can fully hate Peter. I really feel like as much as she's broken because of Peter, right now... She's more so broken because of the combination of things that has happened to her, adding to her current situation and what John's doing to her. And I still hold onto hope that she'll realize that though he's not admitted it to her, Peter's just as broken and that they can be each other's saving grace.

I really feel like most of the horrible shit that's happened, is happening and probably will still happen, could be avoided if she was honest with him about the whole thing with dickhead John. Though I understand her hesitation, I still feel like she could help more by telling him the truth.

I have never been so attached emotionally to two characters more than these two, @liz-allyn and I am trying to survive the angst that is ensuing, because I feel like it's going to just get worse from here... but I just hope that that means it can only get better after that.

You're talent for writing and amazing depiction of such a complex couple, not to mention their inner turmoil is outstanding and I am blown away every time I read a chapter. I just can't put into words how much I love series.

I hope that things get/are getting better for you. Know that you deserve so much happiness and positivity and I'm sending you so much love! <33

sugar and vice, pt 16 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: your own worst enemy is yourself

words: 8.1 k

chapter warning: negative self-talk. or4l *f receiving* creepy font. mean dom honey.

series warnings: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. hurt/comfort. s*xu*l situations. spousal ab^se. family trauma. dr*g use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

These two are f*cked up™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you've come this far you should know what you're getting yourself into.

Back to Part 15.

Part 16

Hey.

Hey, asshole. Can you hear me?

—wake up—

Are you still crazy? Snap out of it!

—W̶A̶K̶E̸— ̵U̵P̶—

Peter’s eyes snapped open as he flinched awake. He would have fallen flat on his face if he hadn’t caught himself on the doorframe. Blinking rapidly, he peered around at his surroundings.

He was sitting on the floor of the hallway in the condo. He found himself leaning up against the guest bedroom door. Honey’s bedroom, he needed to remind himself. It was pitch dark. His ears were still ringing from the explosion hours before.

Wiping the drool from his face, he pushed himself up to a dazed stand, his sleep-deprived mind struggling to come back online. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep—just rest his eyes for a moment.

He could no longer remember the last time he slept, but it was with Honey next to him. That was days ago. The math was fuzzy—when had it ever been difficult for him?—”although both the EEG and behavior indicate wakefulness, local populations of neurons in the cortex may be falling asleep”—but the hours reached the triple digits.

How could he sleep at a time like this?

They’d almost been killed. The woman he loved had almost died. Again.

As shock began to take hold of her on the rooftop, he wrapped her tightly in his jacket and swung home. He told her to close her eyes, and she did. He’d have to deal with her questions later. Might have even passed out.

From the moment he landed on the terrace of his building, he was in a state of frenzied hypervigilance. As he entered the condo, he clutched her in his arms like a baby, and she curled her body around his like a koala. The only thing that kept him from losing his mind into blind panic was her steady exhales of oxygen on his neck. He counted every one of her breaths, the sensation being the only thing between him and hysteria.

Felicia was there, war-face on, having gathered a search-party of his guards as soon as she had gotten word of the explosion outside of the arcade and that the couple was missing. Despite her good intentions, Peter was outside of himself—even more so than he’d been recently.

He didn’t want their help. He didn’t want their presence. He didn’t want them nearby, not within arm’s reach, not touching him. And he certainly didn’t want any of them touching his girl.

He knew he was being unreasonable. He knew it was unproductive and hurtful to see everyone else as a threat. Particularly for Felicia, his most trusted ally.

He didn’t give a shit.

Psh, sounds like you.

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was no one besides him and Honey in the Penthouse, he was certain of it. No other heartbeats detected. But where did that voice come from?

Down here, genius.

Peter’s eyes darted down the hallway, his hair standing on end. His senses were in overdrive, alerting him that the voice was coming from his office. Fists clenched, he stalked towards the room with cat-like steps. Trailing along the wall, he quieted his breathing, trying and failing to detect the other heartbeat in the room.

He set aside his fear, letting his rage give him courage. He stepped into the doorway, eyes alert, ready to face the intruder.

But no one was there.

Ooh. Here it is. He’s finally figuring it out. Took you long enough.

The voice was there again. He glanced around his darkened office in confusion, unable to see the source. Cold sweat beaded at his brow, his hands having gone numb with a clammy chill.

Jaw slightly agape, he wandered further into the room, eyes roving the area. His pulse increased with every step, dread filling his belly like an anvil. Was his home suddenly haunted by ghosts? Was he finally going crazy?

I’d say the latter is more likely, wouldn’t you?

From where he was standing near the lounge area, he glanced over at the source of the voice, coming from behind his desk.

It was him.

He blinked.

Blinked again.

And again.

He stared in utter confusion, his mind unable to process what he was seeing.

Himself. Sitting behind his desk, dressed up like it was Easter Sunday, wearing a bright white suit and white collared dress shirt, the top buttons loosely unbuttoned. It was one of the expensive suits, by some fancy designer that he didn’t care to remember. Only he didn’t remember the suit at all. He’d remember wearing an all-white fancy getup like that, looking like Lucifer on his wedding day.

By contrast, his eyes—or, the eyes of the him seated behind the desk—were as dark as a winter night and three times as cold. The jaw of his doppelgänger firmly set with a look of disapproval.

“Fuck, I’m losin’ my mind.”

Well, you lost your soul a long time ago, his other self answered him, lips moving. His whole body went rigid with terror. So what’s a pesky mind worth? Never had any common sense to begin with.

Peter stepped back, eyes wide. He sealed them closed for a moment, willing the vision away. Praying to whatever god—

Oh, don’t bullshit me. We both know you got nothin’ to say to God.

“What the fuck is happening?” Peter murmured, barely louder than a whisper.

What do you think, Parker?

Peter stared at the ivory-clad doppelgänger silently, heart hammering in his chest. His tongue felt dead in his mouth.

His twin rolled his eyes, agitated. Here, let me spell it out for you. Hi, Peter. It’s me—your conscience. We haven’t spoken for a while.

Peter shook his head. “This... this isn’t happening, I.... I’m dreaming. I hit my head. I’m-I’m—”

A crazy asshole? The Phantasm version of himself replied, eyes narrowed with disgust. A pathetic nutjob? A fuckin’ drug addict? A big baby in desperate need of a nap? Take your pick. They’re all true.

He tilted his head, confusion contorting his features.

Thanks to all that crap in your veins, you’ve been awake for 104 hours. I did the math for you. You were a paranoid, fascist dictator; now you’re a sleepy, paranoid, fascist dictator.

Peter’s eyes darted, bewildered at the revelation.

His other self glared at him through narrow slits. At a certain point, didn’t you think there were gonna be consequences?

He looked up at the Phantasm, face blank.

His doppelgänger rolled his eyes. No, of course not. You never think, do you?

Peter brought both hands to his eyes, dragging them across his face, before burying them in his hair. The throbbing sensation that usually lived behind his eyes was back, this time with the force of a hurricane barreling down on a small house.

That headache you have? It’s not a migraine. It’s that Thing inside you, telling you that you’re going through withdrawal.

Withdrawal—that would explain why Peter thought he was going to throw up.

His other half sneered, Christ, get ahold of yourself. You haven’t tweaked out like this since you got bit.

“I... gotta—” Peter swallowed hard, his mouth feeling drier than a desert. “I—Eddie, I need Eddie.”

Yeah, you do. The Phantasm spat. Too bad you treated him like shit, too. When are you ever gonna stop hurting the people around you?

Peter shot him an angrily glance. “I didn’t—” The sentence died in his mouth. “I’m trying to protect the people around me.”

Oh, like you protected Honey?

His heart lurched at her nickname.

Yeah. Bang up job you’re doin’ there. The Phantasm shot up to a stand behind the desk, pacing with silent, livid footfalls. Fuckin’ valet, really? How stupid could you be? You told her to get in the car! Another half second and she’d be nothing but a splatter on the pavement! The entity narrowed eyes on him, cruelly adding, ‘Course, that’s how you like ‘em, yeah?

“Shut up.”

Or what, prick? You gotta throw me in the trunk of your car? Whack me right here in the street? His doppelgänger chuckled darkly as he echoed the words which speared him earlier that night. She got your number, alright.

“I didn’t ever want her to get hurt, that—” His throat tightened at the sting of tears in his eyes. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Well, congratulations. Road trip’s over. Thanks to you, we’re in hell.

“I’m doing what needs to be done,” Peter declared firmly. “It’s not nice and it’s not pretty, but without me, she’s in danger. She coulda been dead already, and I wasn’t gonna let that happen. Fisk is comin’ after all of us—”

Wouldya look at that? Too scared to say his name ‘cept when you’re passin’ off blame.

Peter fell silent.

Don’t you see it, moron? He already won! He turned you inside out—made you give up everything that made you different. Your friends. Your philosophies. Your moral obligations. Whatever was left of that beat-up soul of yours—it’s all gone. And it’s your fault. You didn’t beat Kingpin, you became him.

Peter turned his face away, scowling at the shadows.

You know what Fisk didn’t do? His temper didn’t get Miguel thrown in jail so he could be eaten alive by the wolves. His shitty choice in guards didn’t get Hobie killed. That was all you. Goddamn it, even the kid that loves everybody can’t even stand the sight of you anymore.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like his skin was crawling off his skeleton. He paced with a locked jaw, eyes downcast.

And Fisk didn’t make that poor girl his prisoner. Not like you did.

Peter’s eyes snapped over at the accusation. “I never hurt her!”

Are you stupid or are you so used to the sound of your voice lying that you can’t tell the difference?!

His Phantasm wheeled on him, stalking towards him with rage building. ‘Your Honey,’ eh? You’re a piece of shit for that, y’know. You stole that poor girl and you force her to sleep with you at night ‘cos you’re afraid of the dark. You’re afraid of your nightmares? Bullshit! You are the nightmare.

Peter flinched as if the words were stab wounds. His face twisted with disgust turned inwards.

Every time you touch her you’re insulting everything you claim you stand for. Everything your family—your parents, Uncle Ben—everything they believed they saw in you! What May taught you about respecting women! Christ, what would she say if she saw what you did with that goddamn camera?

Peter grimaced, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Tears pushed through his eyelids. His stomach roiled with nausea. “I didn’t... I didn’t mean to—”

You thought you could get her to break, huh? Thought you could get her to tell you the truth? That you’re a fucking monster and she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot you like a rabid dog if she had the chance? Is that what you wanted to hear?! Fucking answer the question, goddamn it!

“Yes!” Peter roared over the sound of his heart snapping in half. He whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I knew she hated me.” His voice was tiny and thin, his lower lip wobbling as he forced out his confession. “I just wanted her to say it.”

Hates you, The Phantasm corrected. Present tense. ‘Specially after what you said to her in the street.

His brows furrowed, tears dripping from his chin.

And you had the audacity to be embarrassed? Worried about how those people looked at you like you’re an asshole? Got news for you, bub. You’re definitely the asshole!

Peter felt like his legs were turning to rubber. A wave of exhaustion came over him, powered by his adrenaline, anger, fear, and despair. He leaned over the edge of the pinhead sofa, hands gripping the frame still cracked from his earlier outburst.

His lip trembled, and he bit it in place. “I’m sorry...”

Don’t apologize to me! his doppelgänger huffed. You shoulda said that to her! ‘I’m sorry. Don’t go.’ That’s all you had to say. ‘I’ll hunt you down?’ Really? What kind of Lifetime Movie-of-the-Week creep are you tryin’ to sound like?

Peter shuddered with anguish, haunted by the cruelty of his own words.

The voice was softer now, but not from kindness. How about ‘I need you. I’ll follow you anywhere, wherever you want to go. Not like some pathetic stalker. I’ll follow you just to make sure you get where you wanna be, and get there safely.’ The mocking voice of his twin went hollow. ‘Even if it’s not with me.’

The Phantasm added, sighing with frustration. ‘I’ll follow you because I have nowhere else to go.’ That’s what you should have said. You should have told her the truth.

With reddened eyes, Peter gazed up at the vision hopelessly. “What... what is this? Wha’do you—whaddya want from me?”

I want you to be a man and take responsibility for what you did. Responsibility, Peter! Take responsibility for what you did to Honey. For what you did to Gwen.

Peter shook his head in confusion. “What—what does that mean? What do you want me to do?”

—̵he wants you to D̷̫͆̊IĘ̶͖͎̝̰̹̫̋͒̃̍—

Peter’s stomach clenched at the foreign voice. Terror crawled up his throat.

It was an awful, twisted voice, full of anguish and rage. Pulled taut and flayed.

Peter watched his mirror reflection go still, its complexion paling like the color of his suit. The Phantasm looked beyond Peter’s shoulder, eyes widened as his gaze flicked back to the source of that voice.

Peter had heard it before. He’d heard it all along. He just never faced it.

Well, I guess now’s your chance, The Phantasm said grimly. Peter watched his mirror image’s eyes go cold, swallowing down trepidation.

Not J̸̳̽U̴̢̦̍S̴̬̽͐T̷̥̐͂ ̶y̶o̵u̶— The tortured voice added. He wants U̴̡͍̗͍̣̟̻̹͂̾̒̈́̿̾̏̂Ş̸̙͓̟̪̳̩̜͋͐̊ to d̶i̶e̸!

Slowly, Peter turned his gaze around, pivoting towards the opposite side of the room. The shadows that shrouded the lounge area also hid something else in its darkness. Something moving. A humanoid figure with limbs and fingers stretched to a grotesque state, too long to be human. A figure that wasn’t just hidden in the darkness, it was darkness.

Peter gulped down the urge to scream in terror at the entity. It looked like the lovechild between an H.R. Giger sculpture and one of Guillermo del Toro’s nightmares. He was terrified of it, despite knowing its origin. He understood the beast intimately, despite not having a word for it. Peter questioned whether or not something could be considered The Unknown, especially if he knew exactly where to find it.

Well there ya go, his doppelgänger supplied. Speak of the Devil.

At the end of the sentence, the shadow came alive.

Two triangular eyes—giant, almost as large as the head of the creature—opened wide, blinking at Peter. They were milky white prisms that flexed and bent the way that eyes would.

Peter was rooted in place, unable to move and unable to escape its gaze. At first glance, Peter wondered if it was actually smiling at him. He sealed his own lids shut, chest heaving, hoping that this was all a nightmare and that he would wake up.

No such luck, he heard in the darkness.

Trembling, Peter opened his eyes and was only more shaken by the sight. It was smiling at him. In fact, the human-sized skull was nothing more than eyes and teeth, half of its face cradling rows of quill-like spikes, enough to rival a shark’s mouth.

It was smiling alright, mouth oozing with thick goo. A sleek serpent slithered out of the mouth with viper scales, twisting and bending in the slime that dripped from the jaws of the creature. A few more blinks and Peter realized, as bile threatened to surge upwards, it wasn’t a snake after all; it was a tongue.

The creature didn’t move so much as it flowed. Inky black liquid made into a living nightmare.

N̸igh̸t̶m̷a̶r̴e̴?̶ A raspy hiss slid into Peter’s ear like a centipede, the sound sinking into his brain. Every hair on his body stood on end. It was almost as if he could feel a hundred tiny legs scampering and burrowing into his gray matter. W̸e̴ are here to keep y̶o̶u̵r̸ ̴n̷i̵g̵h̴tma̸r̷e̵s̸ from becoming ̷r̴e̵a̴l̴i̸t̶y̸.̴

It wasn’t just one voice coming from the mouth of the beast, but several. A Legion of voices—all of them intertwining into a dissonant squall. It created an unharmonious chorus of demon-speak, nails on a chalkboard, and what could be mistaken for Peter’s own voice—if he were being mutilated and flayed alive. The resulting sound sliced into Peter’s eardrum and made his skin crawl, like the feeling of accidentally grinding his own teeth together, or a fork scraping a plate.

W̵e̷ ̴Are the Ó̵͔͍̾N̵͕̂L̶Y̶̧̽͠ ̷̡͖̕O̴͈̿N̶͎̈͝E̷̬̠̎̉̄S̶̹̥̏͠ ̴standing b̶e̵t̴w̵e̴e̵n̶ ̵y̵o̷u̴ ̶and your own ̵̵̝̎̀f̴͜͠ǎ̵ḯ̴l̴̓u̵͊r̷̟͚̅e̶̟̪͊. W̷i̷t̵h̸o̵u̵t̷ ̴U̸̵̸̧̧̺̲͙̲̻̍̎͆̓͝S̵̷̴͚̞͖̻̘͖̲͔͊̃̈́, you would have ṇ̸̊ǫ̷̦t̵̝͗h̵̝̚î̴̜̖̈́ng̷̗͆!

Guy has an ego, doesn’t he? Wonder who he gets it from. The Phantasm said from behind.

Part of Peter wanted to argue. But denying his involvement—denying his likeness in the beast—was useless.

W̴e̸’̸r̷e̵ M̶̤̃Ã̷̫̏D̴̦̰̃E̶̡̘͠ ̴f̵o̵r̶ ̴e̸a̸c̷h̴ ̵o̶t̸h̸e̵r̵, d̸̆̍́o̸n̷̓'̴̄̆ť̷ ̵̼̃ͅẙ̶̬̬o̴ǔ̶̘̖̆ ̵̱̫̄s̵̢͍͌s̸͉͙̺͗͝së̵̮́ee? Y̶o̸u̶r̸ R̵A̶G̶E̶ ̷a̵n̶d̷ V̶̧̺̻̽͒̚E̸͔̔̕N̶̻̬͓͐̂Ġ̷͈͚̇ͅĘ̷͓̞͂F̷͉͠U̵̻͍̫͌L̶̟̞̾N̷̡̠̤͝E̶̤̦͆̕S̸̮̿̆Ş̵̩̺̈́ ̵m̶a̵d̴e̴ u̸s̶̵ a̶ ̵P̶E̸R̷F̶E̷C̷T̴ ̸b̵r̵e̶e̸di̷n̸g̴ ̴g̷r̸o̵u̵n̷d. W̸E̵ ̴A̶R̵E̴ n̴o̷w̷ ̴a̴ p̸a̴rt̸ ̵o̸f̵ a̵ lif̴e̶ f̴o̵r̵c̸e ̴t̴h̶a̴t̷ ̷h̵a̵s̴ ̷e̵x̵iste̷d̷ s̷i̴n̶c̶e̵ ̷th̵e̴ D̴A̸WN̶ ̸O̴F ̴T̵IM̷E̵.̴ ̵No̸ more̸ ̵H̴̦͊̐Ḯ̶̤̘̖͝D̴͙̝͎̀͘I̴̗̐̅͗N̸͔̗̥̊̀̚G̴̡̰̽̀.̷̜̙̟͑ N̶̹̝͛̿̈o̴ ̴͋m̴͙̅̈́͋õ̴r̶̙̾̕e̵ M̶̙̬̌͘A̴̽S̶̅͂K̵̻̫͉̾. Y̶o̵u̵ ̷w̵i̵l̸l̴ ̴s̵e̶e̸ ̶Ŭ̷̡̧̢̢͚̬͔̥̜̪̭̖̖̂̄͋̌̔͘͝S̷̨̨̭̗̺̣̳̏͐͒͑̈́͘͘ ev̴e̷r̸y̴w̴h̸e̵r̴e̶ y̸o̷u̷ ̴l̷oo̶k̸. E̵̴̵s̶p̴e̴c̵i̵a̷l̷l̶y̵ ̵in̴ ̷y̶o̷ur̴ N̵̖̖͇͚̱̤͓̹̞I̶̡͔͇̣̦̯̍͂̽̋͋̐̎͆͝Ḡ̶̇͑͊̒Ḧ̵͑͌̑͘͘T̷̪̳͈̭̉́̿̍̎M̸̢̓́̿͐̉͒͠A̸͓̱͙̺͋̿̈́R̸̨̀̐̏̉͒̀͜͝Ȩ̴͈͎̘̬̩̹̀̎̍͊S̶̛̥͐̈́̐͛͋͛͋.

Peter stood in the middle distance between the two entities, literally caught between darkness and light. The only difference was that there was nothing vague about the two forces quarreling around him. Peter knew exactly what he was dealing with: the inner dialogue of self-loathing he had grown up with, and the new and improved model, spawned from the compound he had been dosing himself with for months.

Monsters of his own making.

D̴o̷ ̶you wish t̶o̶ ̷w̴a̷l̵l̵o̴w̵ in self-pity ̴a̵l̸l̵ ̵n̷i̶g̴h̸t̶?̷ ̸ The Darkness said. Or will W̵e̶ S̷̡͉̖͊́T̵̨̼̰͈̈́͑́̚R̵͕̪̳̈́̓͐Ȋ̴̞̝̫͊Ǩ̵͉̖̈́̕É̸̙̲̰̤̄͛ ̶̭͙͒��̚̚B̶̩͉̰̱͛A̵̲̠͉͉͐̚C̵̪̲̥̓͆K̶̜̿̋͌ at those that wish to ̶H̸͕͓̖̣̗̮̹̫̺̮̹̲͖͕̠͒̉͒̎̄̎̒̓̓Ả̸͇̠̙̠́̈̎̀͛R̵̖͔͇͋͐̾̅̀̂M̸̼̘̮͎̖͉̹̉̐ U̸S? T̸h̵̶̴o̶̵s̷̷̷e̷ t̵ha̵t̴ t̴r̵i̵e̵d t̷o̸ T̷̤̤̉A̷͙͠K̵̹̩̑͊E̸̢͌͝ ̷́A̷̳͊Ẉ̴͔͒͑A̸̺͚͂̄Ỳ̴͇̗͠ w̵h̶a̷t̶ ̶i̴s̷ O̵̖̿Ù̶͔R̶̜̈́S̴̨̒?̴̝̈́?

“Fisk,” Peter said, lip curled up the way a dog growls.

What makes you so sure it was Fisk? The Phantasm countered. How did he know where you were goin’ tonight? Nobody knew. Tonight was supposed to be special. Something you planned just for her without anyone’s help. Not because you’re a controlling asshole, for once—but because you wanted to prove to yourself that you weren’t a total fuck-up.

A cruel scoff echoed in Peter’s mind, and he bristled with shame. So much for that plan, huh?

Peter stared down at the floor, too afraid to look at either version of himself. “It had to be Fisk. Who else has the power to do somethin’ like that. You think Danny’s people—?”

The Phantasm let out an exasperated sigh. God, it’s a wonder you ever made it this far. How the fuck did you become a boss, by the way? Couldn’t think your way out of a paper bag with a pair of scissors in your hand.

F̴̣̥͊Ö̴̡̟̟̣̱̪̭́̋̍̿̂͗Ọ̸͂̆̈́̀̑͠͝L̷̰̟̦̮̖̺̆̓͜.̴ You r̸e̵f̶us̴e̵ ̵t̷o̷ ̴s̴e̵e̸ ̶w̴h̴a̴t̴ is̵ ̴r̷i̴g̶ht̴ i̶n̵ ̶fro̵nt̷ o̴f̵ y̵o̶u̴. T̶h̵e̸r̷e̶ ̸i̷s̴ ̸a̸ ̴S̷̢͓͖̿N̴̸̶̴̶̶̵̶̢̡̨̼̹̪̫̮̰̼͎̔̃̃̿̎̍͗͝Ä̸̞̰̣͚Ḳ̵͇͖̜̓̎́̇Ę̶̭̝̿̑̋̋ in O̵̻͐u̴̟̓r̴̫̃ house. It mus̶̝͖̊̀̊͑̈́̒t be ex̷̟́traċ̴̞t̶e̸d̴͐.̸.̷̀.. I̵t m̶u̶s̵t be̴ ̷m̸a̴d̴e̶ ̶a̸n e̶x̵͆̔͆́a̴̞̔̌͋̄̅m̴̴̴̛̠̘̭͉̯̾̈́́̎̐ͅp̵l̶e̶ f̷o̶r̷ o̴t̶h̶e̸r̸s̵.̴

Peter’s eyes fell closed, expression twisted with anguish. A pit formed deep in his stomach.

Ỷ̸̥o̴͔̾u̶̓ ̷hă̷v̵ë̵̴͉́͌ kn̵ó̸w̴n ̶̧̕ä̵͕́ll ̵̱̂alo̴̩͋n̶̤̆g̴.̸ Ŵ̷͜E̷͓͗ ̷h̵av̶e̵ Ą̶̛̼̩̮͎͆̂̑̈́̌͝Ļ̸̖̖̗̇̎́̑̕W̴̩̗̺̫̱̩̘̃̽̕͝Ạ̵̫͑̓͐̽Y̷͖̔̉Ṡ̷ k̶͖͗n̸ò̶ẁ̴n.

‘Please stay. I’m sorry.’ The Phantasm added onto the barrage of voices. Peter could feel the anger radiating off of his twin as he hissed inhis ear. That’s all you had to say. ‘You were right about me. You’re right about everything. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I broke your rib. Sorry I broke your spirit. I break things. That’s all I know how to do. I’m sorry I almost got you killed.’

A̶L̵M̴O̵S̵T̷ ̴i̵s̸ ̵Ṇ̸͍͈̫̓́̈ͅO̸̼͓̿͜T̷̠͌̽͊̚ ̶a̴c̷c̸ep̷t̷a̵b̷l̷e̸. On his other shoulder, on the dark side of his soul, Peter heard the other voice tempting him. W̸e̷ ̸n̴e̸ed̴e̷d̴ ̶t̷o̶ ̵b̶e̴ fa̷s̵t̷e̴r̶—S̵T̴̲͍̙̫̞͚̀̍̂̆̓͑͘̚R̵O̶N̵G̶̛͇̮͔̪̱͑̍͌͋̀͂̎̄͠E̸R̸.̴ W̷e̶ ̴Ṇ̴̛́̈́̍̒̒̂̎̒̕É̸̜̩̳̬̺̭̮E̸̻̠̥̹̞̻̫͍͔͕͛D̸͇̩͕̫̖͆͐̉̏̿̾ ̴t̴o̴ ̵e̴v̸̢͎̫͇͙̜̓ol̶̩̳̙̓̈̍̋̇͝͠ve̷.̵ ̶W̷e̸ ̵n̴e̵e̴d̸ ̶t̷o̶ ̸b̴ec̸om̷e̵ L̴̓̐̔͛̐̓͘͝E̷̍̐͠T̵̞̞̥̤̗͋̑̄͐̏̂͋́̄͜͜͝H̴̡͓͚͕̅̑̂̓̄̈́́Ạ̴̯̟̖̮̖͓́̀̽͜L̵͈͍̱͓͕̟͆̂̅

“Peter?”

With a gasp, he spun on his heel, wet eyes glaring at the doorway. His whole stance was defensive— fists balled, chin tight, face reddened. He was ready to attack.

By contrast, the tiny feminine form that barely took up a quarter of the door space made herself even smaller. Honey gazed at him with concern. “Who are you talking to?”

Chest still heaving, Peter’s jaw fell open. He realized that he was standing alone in a room talking to himself. Having an open conversation with his inner demons.

Swallowing back his embarrassment, he looked her over more intently. She was dressed in a gray terry cloth robe, her hair soaked wet from her bath. Even in the dark, the cuts and bruises on her face from the explosion were visible. She leaned to one side gingerly, no doubt favoring the cracked rib from Peter’s tight grip. The sight brought more tears to his eyes, along with more self-loathing. And another sort of rage, one that he couldn’t immediately define.

“You’re hurt,” she murmured, stealing the words from his mouth.

He connected with her gaze and followed its path to a blood stain on his shoulder. He leaned over to get a better look at it, hissing suddenly at the sting across his back. He was injured, alright. The explosion had sent burning shrapnel and bits of glass in all directions, including his back. He thought he had gotten it all, but a blood-streaked oozing laceration left his shirt sliced open.

She stepped closer to him, and inexplicably, it made him flinch. Honey paused, having noticed the cagey reaction. He looked disheveled, and not just from the dried blood and soot marking his skin. His eyes darted, unable to meet hers.

“How... How’re you doin’?” he timidly asked, focusing his attention on hers.

Honey observed him quietly, and felt a pang in her heart. He looked lost. Afraid. Only slightly better than the sheer panic he experienced immediately after the explosion. He looked like he needed a hug and her arms ached to give it to him.

And she loathed herself for that.

“I can help you,” Honey replied, ignoring his question. She nodded an indication of his wounds.

He shook his head. “‘S’fine.”

“I think you have a piece of metal sticking out of your back,” she replied.

Peter turned and glanced behind his shoulder to see that she was correct. A small three-inch piece protruded from a bloody gash on his left lats. His eyes grew wide, cheeks flushing pink at the sight.

“Oh,” he said. “That would explain why it kinda hurts to breathe.”

He said it with a humorless laugh, and she stared back with a humorless expression. “Follow me,” she declared, turning her back to him and padding from the doorway.

He contemplated the tone in her voice, lips buttoned up. She was the one giving him an order. She was the one leading him along now.

With feet rooted to the floor, he was having trouble finding the courage to follow her.

Peter sat on a stool in the center of his bathroom, his shirt off and his bloody back exposed. The piece of metal was out. Peter had insisted that he remove it himself.

Honey sat behind him on an ottoman with a tray of bandages and disinfectant next to her. The pair spoke very little.

He kept quiet with his head down, glancing periodically to the bathroom mirror. Every stolen glance was wary, as he struggled to read her stone-faced expression. Just as intently, he watched the pair of scissors on the tray within her reach.

“This looked worse than it is,” she announced, the most conversational they had been in hours. “Except for your lower back, the other wounds aren’t that deep. Probably don’t need stitches.”

The contents of a trauma kit were laid out neatly in front of her. It only surprised her for a moment, before she considered how routine emergency room visits from gunshot wounds might be cause for suspicion.

She reached for a surgical needle with dexterous fingers and a flat tone. “You’re lucky.”

He let out a small scoff in the pit of his throat. Muscles tensed at the pain, and also— for some reason he couldn’t ascertain— half-expecting her to slit his throat. Bitterly, he mumbled beneath his breath, “Good ol’ Parker Luck.”

Keeping an intense focus, she snipped a length of stitching, threading it through a curved needle.

Peter continuously bounced his heel on the foot of the stool, anxiously waiting for the needle’s bite. He hadn’t planned to suture the wound at all, relying instead on his accelerated healing abilities. Unfortunately, she saw the wound before he could hide it, and insisted she knew what she was doing and that he needed to allow her to help. He reluctantly agreed, with a suspicion that her insistence was less about providing aid and more about the opportunity to use him as a pin cushion.

She stabbed the needle into his flesh, because of course she did. He jolted and hissed, his theory confirmed. “Sorry,” she said, in a tone that wasn’t very remorseful. “Slipped.”

He bit down hard, breathing through the pain, saying nothing. Better to let her stab him with a needle than with the scissors.

He glanced over to the mirror to see her deftly drawing the needle upwards with a needle driver in one hand and forceps in the other. Instead of attempting to pinch his flesh together like a novice, she pressed the tip of the forceps beneath his gash, using them to steady his flesh while she drew the needle. She stitched a perfect centimeter on either side at the center of the wound, with a line as straight as an arrow.

She was good at this, he deduced. She had done this before.

He bit his bottom lip as she tied off the suture. Two surgeon’s knots and two square knots that would’ve made any nurse proud. “Where did you learn to do that?” he quietly asked.

With her mouth in a tight line, she pierced another hole into his flesh, this time slightly less vindictively. “Girl Scouts.”

He pouted, letting his shoulders sag. He didn’t need to listen to her heartbeat this time. He shifted uncomfortably, irked by her callousness. “Huh. They teach field trauma response in between cookie seasons?”

“If you wanna talk about something,” she replied, her vocal chords pulled taut, “why don’t you answer my question from earlier?”

He rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Which question—”

“You know exactly which one,” she said with a cold glower. Her tone was icy with frostbitten contempt. He wondered if she intentionally chose the phrase he’d said to her in his office the previous night.

He swallowed hard. Of course she did.

“Bella,” he answered.

“Bingo.”

“What’s the sudden urge to know where she’s at?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“What? Do you not believe me when I tell you that she’s safe—?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Jesus,” Peter scoffed, offended. “Why are you—You really think I’d ever put a kid in danger?”

She jabbed him with the needle. “I don’t know what to think.”

He twisted around, leaping off of the stool and out of her reach. With a sharp line between his eyebrows, he towered over her and glared down indignantly. “How many times do I hafta say it, huh?” he demanded. “I don’t hurt children, and I don’t hurt women!”

“Who’s Gwen?”

It felt like a lightning strike. A jolt shot down his spine, eyes widening in shock. She stared up at him with her jaw locked tight, his surprise spiking her resentment. He blinked several times, mouth falling open. “Where did you—?”

“She’s the girl in your box,” she replied, cutting off his question at the knees. Defiant and fearless, she stood in front of him, not retreating an inch. “I found a photo of you and her together. Right next to a pile of dirty pictures of her.” Peter snapped his mouth closed, eyes screaming. She glowered at him like filth beneath her feet. “It’s sorta sweet—in a sadistic way. You keep those around to jerk off?”

His eyes glimmered with rage, shoulders tense. “I don’t know what you think you know,” Peter softly replied, swallowing back fury. “But watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” she seethed. “Am I gonna end up in a box too?” His brows furrowed, wounded by her words. “Is that what you do to us, Peter?” she questioned bitterly, skewering him with her glare. “You shove us in a box and bury us in a pile of your secrets?”

He swallowed hard.

“How dare you lecture me about lying,” she whispered. “You could fill a swimming pool with all your secrets and lies. A giant, fucking mass grave.”

The last word in her sentence dripped with acid. He flinched at it. She noticed.

“Here,” she sneered, letting the surgical tools clamor down on the tray. “Lick your own wounds.” She rounded around him, stomping off.

He reached out, grabbing her forearm. “Wait a minu—”

As soon as he touched her, she wheeled on him faster than she’d ever moved in her life. Spinning on her heel, she flattened her hand across his cheek. The force of the slap was hard enough to set her palm on fire while knocking his gaze to the side.

Time stopped.

She stared at the red handprint on his cheek with wide eyes, her chest heaving. She could hear her blood pumping. Her heart thumping wildly. Her limbs shook with each giant breath through her nose. She felt enraptured by terror and rage, and the sickening thrill of causing him pain.

Slowly, he straightened his head, dark eyes meeting hers.

She mirrored his hard expression, sharp breaths and blown out eyes. He looked like a statue carved from marble—all sleek, lean muscles, broad shoulders, and raw power. She pictured cracks of antiquity breaking him into pieces. She pictured a sledgehammer in her hands and what she would do with it.

He reminded her of a mountain of steadily-rising pressure and heat, like a volcano moments from eruption. Yesterday, she would’ve shrunk to her knees in his presence, as if praying to a fire god for mercy. Instead, she burned on the inside, her body already filled with molten lava.

There was no more room for prayers. No faith in mercy. Her anger reached a fever pitch, driving her towards blind madness, twisting her view of the world around her.

She was weak.

Had always been weak.

Had always begged for mercy.

Had always been on her knees, in one way or another. For her family. For God. For John. For Peter.

The latter in the list took a step towards her, steel-eyed and jaw tense. She held her ground, glaring up at him boldly.

She hated Peter.

She hated John.

She hated all men.

If God was a man, she hated him too.

And her mother. She loathed her mother.

She hated being a pawn, being a tool.

She hated being talked down to.

She hated being used.

She hated being an object. To be won or stolen away.

Fuck it. Fuck them all.

“Get on your knees.”

Peter blinked at her, untrusting of his ears, or his brain’s ability to comprehend the words that just came out of her mouth. She kept her eyes narrowed on him, unflinching. His hard glare faltered as confusion set in, his thick brow raised upwards.

“Did I stutter?” she said in an icy tone. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”

Wide-eyed, he took a step backwards, breath caught in his throat. He stared at her like a puzzle. A complex equation. One he’d run so many times, which always had a reliable outcome, and now, suddenly—the conclusion had changed. Not even math was reliable anymore.

She narrowed her eyes, piercing him with a vicious gaze. Her voice dipped down in her throat. “That means kneel.”

Electricity crackled off her tongue. It sent a jolt down his spine. Down and downwards further, electrifying the part of him that longed for her touch. He gulped, feeling his blood rushing in opposite directions.

His brain urged caution and calculation. He considered the distance between her reach and the scissors on the tray, or the razor on the countertop, or any number of objects she could use to cut his throat.

Simultaneously, his arousal urged him to respond without delay to that tone, which he’d never heard from that sweet voice. It begged him to kneel, to strip naked, to bend over, to save her the trouble and throw himself on the nearest blade. To do anything she fucking asked.

Another feeling tugged deep in the back of his mind, hoping that whatever she asked for next would involve a little bit of all of the above.

Never breaking eye contact with her, Peter moved like a cautious fawn and slowly sank to his knees. Now beneath her, his chin lifted high as she stared down at him. He was on the opposite side of the height advantage, but not by that much.

By the look on her face, he had nothing over her. She towered over him in every possible way. She wasn’t just feisty, she was formidable. She was tantalizing and terrifying. Dauntless and dominating.

She lifted her chin higher, peering down at him like a sacrificial lamb. Taking in the way he trembled before her with shameful, heavy breaths. She lifted her knee, hooking her foot over one of the stool’s rungs. The robe she wore parted scandalously, pulling back a curtain to reveal a hidden oasis in her scorching heat.

“Make me come in your mouth,” she demanded.

She kept a straight face as he stared up at her, stupefied. Brain rebooting and crashing. Gazed at her motionlessly, mind spinning off its axis, contemplating whether or not all of this had been the strangest dream he—

She slapped him again. Hard.

He glanced back up at her, stunned. Anger crawled up in his chest—a spasm, really—only to be pushed down by filthy, Pavlovian desire pulsing from his cock. The result was a blazing concoction of passion that made him hard in a matter of moments.

Slowly, he breathed in and out, and with it, he caught the scent of her arousal. All rational thought ceased, reduced to basic animal instincts. He swallowed painfully, eyes darting down to the source, mouth watering.

His gaze darkened with lust. His next outward breath dragged in his throat, like the pant of a dog responding to a female in heat.

He looked up at her, his eyes unsure, questioning—challenging, even. Her face was unquestionable. Challenge accepted.

He placed one of his hands on her raised thigh, pulling it up further over his shoulder. The force of it almost knocked her off balance; she had to grip the countertop to steady herself. She hissed at the sting at her rib, but didn’t stop him. It was a cracked rib. She’d been fucked through worse.

His other hand clamped around her opposite thigh, steadying her stance as he dove in. She sucked in a gasp as she felt the heat of his lungs on her flesh. His tongue darted out and licked a stripe from deep at the entrance of her core all the way up to her front. The slick force of his muscle sent goosebumps across her body. She whimpered with pleasure.

His abs clenched at the sound, twisting his insides like spaghetti on a fork. He felt like his stomach was being tossed into a pit. He dragged his tongue slowly, gathering her essence as it exploded across his taste buds.

Honey.

She tasted just like honey.

He groaned at the realization, burying his tongue into her folds.

She quivered in his grip, staring down at the lewd sight of him on his knees beneath her. Her eyes watched him through the valley of her heaving breasts. Modestly, her free hand reached up to clench the sides of her robe together, keeping her chest tightly concealed.

He paid it no mind, as he dragged the muscle back through her heat, sucking her into his mouth. His grip tightened on her thigh, drawing another sharp gasp from her lungs. He ran his tongue greedily over her, the light stubble of his cheeks scraping her sensitive flesh.

She hissed at the burn, and ached for more, imagining what it would have felt like had he not shaved his beard. She found herself longing for it. An breathless gasp and mewl broke out of her throat.

This was better than a dream.

Peter moaned into her folds, the vibration drawing another whimper from her lips. His eyes shot open, glancing up at her with a devilish smile. Not allowing himself to dwell on his pride, he retracted his lips, instead teasing her sensitive bud with kitten licks from the end of his tongue.

Her eyes rolled back in her skull at the sensation, another mewl squeaking out. His hips involuntarily jerked at the tiny sound. He wrapped his lips around her sensitive bud, sucking gently, using his tongue to split her open further.

Her sugary tanginess dizzied him. The sweet glucose of her thighs rewired his brain chemistry, and he was immediately addicted to the taste. With his neck craned uncomfortably, he lapped at her folds, drinking her in like a water fountain in a desert. His eyes would look up often, both to ensure she was satisfied and to reassure himself that this wasn’t a fever dream.

She squealed and flinched, bringing her hand up to stabilize her side. He remembered her injury, and even though she was distracted, he wanted to relieve her pain. He wrapped his hands around her waist like a belt, his lips never leaving her flesh. Lifting her by the hips, he hoisted her in the air suddenly, twirling her until she felt the cool marble of the vanity beneath her.

He didn’t slow down. With one arm bracing her lower back, he cradled her hips and held her still, while the other hand pushed her folds open. The new position allowed him to breach her further, his tongue dipping and teasing the inside of her opening.

She was pooling nectar, spilling out between her legs and into his mouth. Desperately, he chased her juices, sucking at her flesh and groaning as he felt his cock twitch.

She cried out in ecstasy — fuckfuckyes fuck me with your tongue, take every drop— spreading her legs wider. Simultaneously, her fingers dug into his thick tuft of hair, using him for leverage as he ground his tongue into her clit. Every time she tugged on his scalp, he had to steady his mind at the sensation. He steeled himself, filling his brain with vile images, afraid that he’d climax from the sting of her nails. He palmed his aching cock, whimpering into her pussy.

She yanked hard enough to tear at his scalp, and he looked up blearily to meet her disapproving stare. She gazed down at him, fire in her eyes. “Did I say you could do that?” she demanded.

He flushed with a tidal wave of emotions. Her bratty tone matched with her dominating, lustful glare threatened to drown him. He released his crotch immediately, licking his lips, already longing for her cunt.

It was as if he tasted her once, and whatever power he had was ripped away. His skill and stamina, developed over a decade of casual one-night-stands, was suddenly worthless. He’d mastered the art of drawing pleasure, even after Gwen. He’d pour his frustration and aggression into the occasional fuck, mostly to satiate his own sado-masochistic desires. But on his knees before her, his confidence was negated. Before he was a feared leader. Now he was nothing more than a slut for her praise. Begging to be used. Anxiously waiting for her moans of approval.

She shoved him forward by the scruff of his head, and he eagerly returned to his station. There, he wrote a love letter. A letter of apology— of hopeless affection, of helpless devotion— drawing out each line with his tongue. His masterful calligraphy focused on her clit, with fingers timidly reaching up to tease her opening. He watched her intently as he slid his middle finger up through her velvet.

She glanced down to catch his pleading gaze. He pulled back his mouth, borrowing his own tongue momentarily to pant desperate words at her cunt—Tell Daddy what you want, babygirl. All he wants is to make you feel good.

He pressed gentle kisses to her clit as a shudder rolled through her, his filthy words burrowing into her brain. Her eyes were blown black with desire as he tickled his fingertips at the plush spot in her pussy. His tongue returned to her clit hungrily with wet, open-mouthed kisses, spurring her pleasure faster with the added stimulation on her G-spot.

She moaned, scaling towards the summit of not only her climax, but a twin peak of elation that was hard to describe. It was the kind of emotion that cartoon villains have as they bellow with laughter about their nefarious plans. An rageful joy. A violent thrill.

She hatefucked his face and buried her nails into his scalp, hard enough that she hoped she could draw blood. And like the whore he was, he whimpered helplessly in her grip.

Her voice used to make those sounds, as she gargled and choked on John’s cock.

She once made those needy, pleading noises on Peter’s desk, splayed out like a open diary. She revealed to him her secrets and desires and fantasies, watching him milk his cock as he read each line with a greedy smile.

John was always greedy when they had sex. It made her feel good to please him. On her wedding night, sex with John was different than it had been before. He fucked every hole like he was angry with her. She spent the rest of the night worried that she’d done something to offend him. Weeping in the bathroom quietly as she wiped blood stains from her pubic bone.

Her heart was going to burst through her chest, she was certain. Peter was good at this. He seemed to genuinely enjoy eating her out, she thought. He whines like a whore, she also thought.

Peter probably fucked that silver whore until she was covered in blood.

Now, Peter was all over her cunt, with his tongue and his fingers and filthy begging. He held her hips steady with his grip. His arm pinned her to the bathroom partition wall like a steel beam across her chest.

It was hard to breathe; her lungs were going to explode. Hard to hear his pathetic mewling over the sounds of her moans. She was loud, relentless. She wanted the neighbors to hear it. Wanted the faceless ghosts haunting the hallways to hear it. Wanted all of New York to hear it. Wanted Johnny Storm and Danny Rand and even Felicia to hear it.

She was there, but she wasn’t. She was at the arcade. With Peter in the bathroom. His hand clenching around her throat. Greedy, bloody hands—his grip penetrating her, violating her, humiliating her—

“Fuck you’re clenching around my fingers,” Peter groaned breathlessly. “Fuck!—yes, use my hand—let Daddy help you—”

Lightning shot through her. Blinding white heat surged through her body, inside and out. She trembled and shuddered as a roman candle sparked in her belly, the explosion scorching her. Her body convulsed as her orgasm crashed through quivering thighs.

Electric screams echoed in her ears, rolling off of her tongue. They dwarfed Peter’s drunken voice—that’s it, good fuckin’ girl, god, y’taste so good—and she had almost forgotten everything about who they were.

Until she felt his fingerprints tightening on her slippery thighs. She looked back down at him to find him helplessly moaning into her split, where he devoutly chased every drop of her with his tongue.

The sight of him on his knees—face wet, lips dripping with her cream, hips twitching with a raging hard-on—was so vulgar. So erotic, it almost made her come twice. She locked eyes with him, drinking in the charred whiskey barrel hue of his irises, and seeing his desperation to communicate. He telegraphed emotions so loudly, it was as if she could hear his thoughts. He thanked her graciously, plead for her mercy, vowed his love to her—

She picked up her leg and jabbed her heel into his throat as hard as she could. The kick stunned him, flattening him. From her perch, she watched him heave and cough on the bathroom floor, rolling onto his side defensively. He choked and gagged, palming his throat.

When he looked up at her, he looked like a kicked puppy. Too shocked to be angry. Too scared of her wrath to question it. She leered at him from above, fixing him with a vindictive glare. He laid beneath her, propped up on one elbow, while the other hand rubbed at his neck.

Her look reminded him of a cruel child chasing an ant with a magnifying glass on a sunny day. She looked to burn him alive. He fought the urge to crawl away. Her eyes flashed at him like a death ray. Lip curled upwards in disgust. He followed her gaze downward to his lap, and saw what she was seeing. The front of his pants were soaked through with his own cum.

Cheeks blushing, he flinched, panicked. Moving his arm in a feeble attempt to hide his shame. Whatever drop in confidence he had plummeted straight through the center of the Earth. He was a child. A stupid boy awakening from a wet dream. He could barely meet her eyes.

“You have one final chance, Peter.” Every word came out like the ominous tolling of a bell. “One more chance to tell me the truth. Because I know what it sounds like when you lie.”

Her voice sounded detached from her throat, untethered from her soul, echoing from a hollow cave where her heart had once been. The coldness of her tone was unnerving. He blinked up at her, lip quivering. Hating himself for what she had become.

Straight-faced and dark eyed, she asked, “Who is Gwen?”

Peter swallowed hard, tears welling up in his eyes. It had been so long since he heard that name on anyone else’s lips. The sound of it still hurt to hear. Not just heart-shattering. It was like his entire being was made of glass. And the vicious look of contempt of her face was a stone being hurled towards him.

He studied her, half in despair, half in horrified awe. Full of regret.

He sniffled as he drew breath. “Gwen—” His voice cracked and he loathed the puny sound. He wanted to take the medical scissors off the tray and cut it out of his own throat.

He rasped out his reply, “Gwen was my... my wife.” His tears felt like they were boiling against the coldness of his cheeks. “She was my everything.” He clenched his jaw to steady it.

When he looked back up at her, her face remained unchanged. She rendered him with an unengaged stare, just shy of apathetic.

“I lost her,” he added weakly. A shadow crossed his features, darkening his face and his spirit. “She died.” A lump formed in his throat, and each following breath was a painful, slow drag. The ache had nothing to do with his injuries.

A crease formed between her brows, tension in her jaw. They stayed silent forever, both fearing what the other one was going to say.

She broke the silence first.

“Peter,” she said with a wary tone. Her eyes grew colder as they began to rim with tears. “Are you responsible for her death?”

He sank further into misery, his face contorted with shame. He peeled his gaze away from hers.

Responsibility, Peter.

His cheeks glistened with anguish.

He nodded.

Observing the gesture felt like death. She felt like a corpse. She and Gwen were no different. Dead bodies trapped in boxes.

Her lips pulled in a tight line. “Thank you. For telling me the truth.” Despite the heartbreak and rage streaming through her, she was no louder than a whisper. She waited until he looked her in the eye.

“Now. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

To be continued...

A/N. Going through a hard time right now, thank you for being nice.

197 notes · View notes